


The price to be paid

by Kexs



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Jokes, Blood and Gore, M/M, Not Beta Read, Physical Torture, Psychological Torture, Swearing, Violence, high death count
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:15:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 64
Words: 168,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27390304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kexs/pseuds/Kexs
Summary: The Hitman AU nobody really needed, but a friend asked for... starring Cor Leonis and Gilgamesh as the dream team of death vs the Glaives and their crazy madness.------Regis is the head of the newly established FBI unit 'Glaives'. Clarus, his faithful friend always at his side, aiding him in the fight against the ever-present threat of paperwork. Meanwhile, Drautos is trying to keep the crazy mob of his underlings on a leash, having to deal with way too much shit. But he is not one for barking - he does know how to bite. Now, enter some drama in form of missing baby brothers, a psycho hitman from the stone ages and we checked all the right boxes to be profiled as 'mad'.------Story updates occur on a weekly basis, if I have time between work and training also BIW.Characters will be added as story progresses. This is going to be a lengthy story with a relationship development at snail's pace. Because I don't do shit half-arsed.
Relationships: Ardyn Izunia & Cor Leonis, Ardyn Izunia & Nyx Ulric, Gilgamesh (Final Fantasy XV) & Cor Leonis, Titus Drautos | Glauca/Cor Leonis
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Since this is an Alternative Universe story, we need to set the stage. It's going to be a very slow burn - even a snail will be faster than these guys. Setting the stage is the most difficult so bear with me. There will be a lot of explaining on the characters' revised background and some plot-holes along the way, because... why not?! Nobody is perfect. Hope you'll enjoy the ride, it's gonna be a long one.
> 
> I do not own any of these characters. They are all property of Square Enix and belong to the Final Fantasy franchise.

The body dropped without a noise. Everyone was watching it happen, it was like slow motion: the head snapping backwards, blood splattering, the knees giving out, the body falling forward. Finally, when the head hit the cold snow-covered ground, everything started to move at regular speed again. The man was long dead by then, tough, all help in vain. The bodyguards started swarming around their so-called charge, too late to do their job, but they could at least keep the illusion of having everything under control. The panicked crowd was screaming, running around without thought or sense. The police tried desperately to contain the crazy mob. Seems like no matter where someone got killed, who got killed, how many people watched it happen and whether or not police were present or not, people would always behave the same way: scream, panic, lose their minds. It seemed like none of them were in their right mind to wonder where the shot had come from?! Not even the hired muscle would do. Was that not sad – no, that was the wrong word; pathetic perhaps? Whatever it was, they were weak, thus, they did not deserve anything but death. He looked through the sniperscope once more, he did not understand why he had to kill the man; he had been no threat, had no power. Nothing… admittedly, it did not matter. 

The man looked towards the sky, checking the position of the sun – just past noon. “Lunch time.” he said, dropping to his knees to start dissembling his rifle. Within less than five minutes, he was gone, leaving only a bullet cartridge behind… 


	2. Home sweet home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Act I: The Hitman

“Oh, for fucks sake. One might think when you get a new corporate branding, they might come up with something cool. Not… this!” Gladiolus complained, throwing his jacket onto the chair with a deep distressed sigh. “I mean, c’mon, man. Glaives – really? Do we look like some sort of humanised weapon, or what? Even game developers come up with better names for their agencies and departments than that!” “What would you have called our department then, do tell?” Ignis replied pushing his glasses up a notch. “Definitely not Glaives – I googled it to see if there was anything coming up. Did you know that the word ‘glaive’ is simply the posh European term for spear? So, technically, our department is associated with a long, sharp pointy object. The only long, sharp and pointy things here are what we have in our pants, but that’s it.” Not funny… but Gladiolus continued ranting and Ignis simply focussed on his task at hand: putting all his books and files back onto a shelf in their new office. He was humming in acknowledgement every now and then to show that he was still listening. 

The Glaives – the new name of their unit within the FBI. Agreeably, the name was lacking… everything but it was out of their hands. Their little unit made of profilers had always been somewhat separate from the remaining teams at the FBI. Regis Lucis Caelum, their Chief Executive Officer – or for short: Boss – had tried for years to split them off completely, fighting the Board of Directors on multiple occasions, until they had finally agreed. For that purpose, they had planned a public conference in front of the new office, inviting old faces to join the ranks. His predecessor and blood relative Mors Lucis Caelum, who had retired almost 10 years ago, had also been present. His replacement had been a delicate affair, and father and son had not parted on the friendliest terms back then. Yet, to show the strong unity within the department he had attended and given a short speech. Well… short because he was shot early on. Now, everyone was unhappy, grieving or angry – and the media was looking for something to rip into. With Regis mourning, Clarus covering his tasks, Titus Drautos was taking on the position as unit chief. Oh joy! That man had a stick up his ass worse than himself – and that was something Ignis did not admit all too kindly! “You could always transfer back to the JTTF or BAU if you have issues with the name, Gladio.” As hilarious as it was to listen to Gladiolus complain, his partner had work to do and he was certainly not going to do overtime just because someone was too busy ranting than actually working: nope. When he turned around, he threw Gladiolus one glare that spoke volumes. “I suggest you start setting up your corner. If Drautos sees that…” he pointed at the untouched transport boxes. “… he will have your hide for it.” Gladiolus looked at them and grunted. “Yeah, good point. Well, at least we got a bigger office now!” and he was beaming like the sun itself. How easy it was to make that man happy. 

The move to the new office building had been necessary. With all the broken pipes it was only a matter of time before the office became an obstacle to keeping its members alive. Their everyday job was not the safest by a long shot, but they should not have to worry about faulty plugs and damaged wiring as well. Since everyone seemed to agree with that notion, Regis had decided to action on this as quickly as possible – which meant for them: finding a new office, sorting out the contracts and moving all their stuff within just 1 month. The Glaives were efficient, but even for them that had been a stretch; they were stationed in Kansas City after all. Nevertheless, the relocation had also brought along the new name, a direct consequence of splitting away from the JTTF and BAU, combining the best practices of both. They were still focussing on terrorism and profiling, yes, but with a more detailed focus on international assassinations, planned murder and unsolved crimes that showed the same MO, practically anything that screamed single assailant, strategic approach and efficient elimination. They would plan, profile and go in to take whatever bastard thought themselves above others down. Easy, but not so easy… their unit had already lost people throughout the years. Ignis and Gladiolus had grown up with parents working for the FBI, thus, had been exposed to certain events, if one wanted to call them that. It was only a given they would follow in their fathers’ footsteps… 

“Alright. All done. C’mon, say it Iggs!” Gladiolus demanded, earning a raised eyebrow from the other man. “If I must: well done Gladio, it only took you 5 hours to get your side of the office ready. You certainly made it on time for afternoon tea.” Gladiolus beamed ignoring the dripping sarcasm, but before he could say anything else, they could already hear Drautos yelling across the office for everyone to gather – team meeting. “Well, he really is not taking things slow, that’s for sure.” Gladiolus hummed. “You are right, but did you expect anything else?” “Nope… hey Nyx, you know what’s this about?” He turned to one of their colleagues, Nyx Ulric, one of the more experienced colleagues. He had been here when Gladiolus and Ignis had still been studying and training at the academy. Nyx just shrugged. “Guy’s been more tight-lipped than usual. No clue what twisted his panties…” “Then let me elaborate that for you, Ulric.” A calm voice responded from a few feet away. 

Titus Drautos was an imposing man, and scary if he wanted to be – which was practically all the time. It did not really help that he was also built like a bear and despite the suit he was donning, there was a scary load of muscle underneath, moving with deadly precision no matter what he did. He was a very strict man, which earned him the title ‘Captain’ since he was the only one aside from Regis and Clarus who was able to keep everyone in line. 

Drautos threw some files onto the desk next to him. “This is the compiled report from Forensics and Ballistics. Aside from the very obvious of what happened, they calculated the distance between sniper and target to be 4,000 yards. Ignoring the fact that he set a new World Record; our sniper also left us a little souvenir.” Drautos took a picture out of the file on top of the pile, holding it up. The picture showed a beautifully designed bullet cartridge, depicting a sword that had an old-fashioned balance scale as the cross-guard. This picture alone made the whole group erupt in angered cry-outs. Well, if shit did not just get worse… 

Without waiting for the other to calm down, Drautos continued. “This is going to be our assignment. I want you all to work efficiently and with purpose.” “But sir, this guy has already taken out so many people and he never left a fucking trace behind. It’s not like we haven’t been trying to catch him, but it’s as if he doesn’t even exist. Argh, I hate that guy…” “I don’t care whether you hate or love him, Ostium. The Board of Directors made it very clear that they want this man taken down and we will do it. I don’t care how long it takes or when and where it’ll happen, but it will be done! Caelum and Amicitia managed to negotiate quite the budget for this endeavour, so I suggest we get them the man’s head on a silver platter. Since this assignment has top priority now, we will all be working on this – no other assignments will be taken on for the time being, unless otherwise indicated. I want you to start digging the deepest shit holes you can muster and then I want you to dig even deeper until you find something. This man is not perfect, he is of flesh and blood like the rest of us. He will screw up… or at least leave a trace behind. Dismissed.” And with that, Drautos returned to his office, throwing the door shut. “Fuck this day… fuck my life… seriously.” The man called Libertus Ostium complained, plopping onto a chair that stood next to Nyx. The other man just shook his head. “Well, how do you like to say, Lib? We’re the Sherlock Holmes of the New Age – then this guy is our Dr Moriarty.” “Who gave him the name ‘Immortal’ anyway?” Gladiolus chimed in, curiosity radiating off him. “I believe that was Mors himself. Noct mentioned once that Regis had told him the story of how he had spent years on end hunting him, before being sent into retirement.” Nyx snickered lowly. “I heard the same. Apparently, Mors shot the Immortal a couple of times, but he would never stay down. The first profiles were actually built on the assumption that we were dealing with multiple people keeping the identity of the ‘Immortal’ alive. The initial assessment even included identical twins, but all these assumptions were thrown overboard eventually, none really matched the MO.” Gladiolus hummed. “Yeah, even identical twins would do things differently, makes sense. So, it really is just one man?! But how – this guy dropped bodies when we were still kids, right, Iggy? I remember dad always complained about it when he and Regis were working on that case back then. So, he must be really old now or something…” “Agreed.” While the others had chatted away, Ignis had retrieved one of the files Drautos had left behind, flicking through the pages. “Male, middle-aged, question mark behind ‘elderly’. Can easily blend in with his surroundings, expected to be knowledgeable in multiple areas to keep conversations going, charming, able to manipulate people for information. With military experience. Multiple scarred tissue to hide from plain sight. Friendly attitude, supportive character. Might look like a regular family man.” Ignoring his teammates’ snorting, Ignis turned the page and continued. “There are more question marks behind ‘childhood trauma’ and ‘split personality’. I take it these traits could not be ruled out nor could they be confirmed?! Very well, this is the last profiling done on this man, dated six years ago.” “Did nobody continue to work on this afterwards or what?” Nyx shrugged. “There were a couple of more pressing terrorist groups that needed taking care of. I remember that the Board was pressing on to get those sorted first because there was lots of political shit going on… Compared to those issues, the Immortal was not as pressing, seeing that he was also targeting bad guys. The Board probably used that for their advantage at the time. No clue what they really were aiming for, but I ain’t getting paid to do their jobs as well.” “Especially when you can’t do your own job right, don’t’cha?” 

Luche Lazarus, an arrogant man and always a displeasure for his fellow colleagues, flipped Nyx and the others off before pulling out a chair and dropping into it. “Pot and cattle, Luche” Smiling, Nyx just shrugged, turning his whole body to Ignis signalling him that the young man got all of his attention. “What else does it say?” “You…” before the brunette could say anything else, Ignis continued reading. “There is a possible connection to religious beliefs, seeing that the bullet cartridges all have the same design of a sword and a scale. The Immortal is investing time and effort into making these cartridges look the part, he is a dedicated and focussed individual, very patient. There might be a possibility that he thinks he is doing ‘God’s work’. There is another question mark behind ‘communication’.” “That’s because nobody really knows whether the Immortal is trying to tell us something, or if he wants praise for his work or simply tries to justify his actions. It was difficult to agree on this point because he has killed across the globe; politicians, highly influential businessmen and women, but also several terrorist group leaders and, mafia bosses and what-not. Apparently, he also killed other hitmen and assassins.” Crowe, little sister to Nyx and Libertus, chimed in while flopping into the latter’s lap, nursing a hot chocolate. Luche snorted condescending. “Guy can’t be that smart then if he’s burning all his bridges. You shouldn’t turn on your own like that. What a retarded freak…” “Can’t be any worse than you are. How about you piss off to those who are interested in your shit talk, hm?” “Make me, asshole…” It was no secret that Libertus and Luche did not get along. Even within the unit there was some animosity, but most of the time they would leave it at bickering, trying to be professional but at times, things would get heated. Before either man could say any more, Drautos opened his office door and marched out, phone on one ear. “Ulric! With me!” With that Drautos was heading towards the staircase. Mere seconds later, Nyx followed in a flash of black and purple. 

It was quiet when he arrived, all lights were out – the room covered in the moonlight that shone through the windows. He dropped his drag bag onto the bed, kneeling in front of it. Icy blue eyes examined the bag critically, displeased with what they saw. As much as he had taken care of his belongings the bag needed replacing; it was not surprising, after 10 years of constant use that was to be expected. He moved one hand gently over the patched-up fabric. “What do you want?” “It is time to replace that thing, don’t you agree?” a low voice rumbled from deep within the shadows. “I will get a new one soon. Answer my question!” The other man moved, he did not need to see it, his training allowed him to sense the other man’s motions. “There is more work to be done. Mors Lucis Caelum was merely the overture to what is coming.” “Who?” He turned his head, eyes staring at the man hiding within the dark, knowing he was returning his glare. “Iedolas Aldercapt.” He nodded slightly. “It will be taken care of, sir.” A quiet rustling could be heard, indicating the man in the shadows was moving towards the door of the room. “Good. Rest now, boy.” And with that the man was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Putting meat on the bones of an AU story is hard - I understand why many cancel their projects. It takes ages before something really cool happens.


	3. All beginnings are difficult

The funeral had occurred three weeks after the assassination. Closed casket for very evident reasons. The Caelum’s – Regis and Noctis – as well as close family friends were present. Regis Lucis Caelum, son of Mors Lucis Caelum had given a little speech, reminiscing on who his father had been, before he was lowered into the ground. He may not have cried like his son, but his eyes had been glassy the whole time. Despite their completely different characters, everyone could see that he was Mors’ son. He held his head high when he needed to, not showing weakness in the face of pain or sorrow. Despite their many disagreements over the past years, they still had been father and son, caring for each other in one way or another. When Regis dropped his white rose into the ground, Clarus, his best friend and brother, walked up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “He can’t avoid us forever. We will get him.” Cold fury bubbling beneath all that mourning, Regis sighed and nodded slightly, watching his son throw another rose down. “We have to, Clarus. This man… he needs to be stopped. He already took two people from me – I can’t... I don’t want anyone else to fall victim to him.” 

Regis turned around to face the other guests, looking at everyone individually for a few seconds. “All of you. You are not just work colleagues. You are family. I know, what I am asking of you will not be easy, in fact, it will be extremely dangerous. I understand if you want to be re-assigned to other cases.” Regis smiled meekly at that before he continued. “There surely are enough of those. But I am asking you, as a father to a son and a brother to many of you: let us put an end to the Immortal. Let’s stop that killing. Clarus and I are old now, we cannot hunt him on our own anymore. We need your help, your strength and your cunning. I want to be able to look that man straight in the eye and ask him if he is proud of what he did. And I want to be able to tell him that he will never be able to harm anyone again – even if some may arguably deserve it. Let us prove to him that… that we don’t just surrender, but that we continue on fighting because it’s the right thing to do.” 

The group of gathered family and friends were quiet before they erupted into one loud ‘aroo’, saluting once for their boss. Clarus snickered next to him. “You still got it – I am impressed. But that ending could have been a little better.” “Well… do try to come up with such an impromptu speech and then we’ll talk, old friend.” Regis replied, smiling sincerely. “Dad?” Regis lowered gaze to meet his son’s eyes. “Will you go back to work again?” “Yes, Noctis. I have to! I have a duty to the others. I want to help as much as I can, even if it means pushing pencils and listening to the nagging Board of Directors.” Noctis gaze fell, it was evident that he was not too happy about that. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I don’t like it though. Be careful, yes, dad? Please?” Regis smiled warmly at his son before he waved Gladiolus over. “Don’t worry about me. I have Clarus who protects me when push comes to shove. And your old man also has a few aces up his sleeve. On that note, we discussed a few things, one concerning you as well.” At this, the black-haired teen perked his ears up. “You spend a lot of time with Gladio and Ignis already, so we figured that they would keep an eye out for you and, if you agree, teach you some self-defence.” Noctis’ eyes became large at hearing this, excitement and concern mixing together. “You mean I get to learn to fight? With Mister Beefcake over there?” “Oi…” Gladio gave him a light clap to his head but Noctis just shrugged it off. “Dad, that’s just wow seeing that I was never allowed to even pick up a butter knife.” Regis’ ears turned a light shade of pink when Clarus started snickering. “Well, yes, that is true but that’s because we both know that you would fall asleep with that thing and hurt yourself without even realizing. But the self-defence Gladio and Ignis will teach you will be in hand-to-hand combat, no weapons. I just want to make sure you are safe. Besides, Gladio and Ignis have been officially assigned to keep an eye on you for the time being.” The man said, his smile barely reaching his eyes. “Great, babysitters… but what about you?” “You shouldn’t worry about your dad, Noct. My dad is there and the whole unit will be looking out for him too.” Noctis just looked at all three man sceptically. For a moment, he considered his options before agreeing. “Fine, but I’ll bring Prom around. I am sure he would totally enjoy this whole self-defence thing. And I won’t have to suffer alone.” Then, he turned to Gladiolus, pointing his finger at him. “And no push-ups. I refuse!” Snickering, Gladiolus saluted mockingly. “Alright, no push-ups for our princess over here. Who needs them anyway, if you can do burpees instead, right?!” he said, causing Noctis to groan and Clarus to simply shake his head. He did not know where Gladiolus got all that mischief from, it certainly could not have been him… 

A movement in Clarus’ periphery caught his attention and he turned slightly, watching Drautos break his phone while glaring at it like it blasphemed in the worst possible way. “Regis…” he pulled his life-long friend back and diverted his attention to their friend. “Oh, that does not bode well.” “Not at all. Boys, excuse us for a moment.” Both men walked over to their comrade who had distanced himself from the remaining attendees. However, they were not the only ones who had noticed as also Nyx Ulric started to make his way over. “Titus, what is it?” The man with the scarred face looked at Regis, somewhat successfully reigning in his anger. He remained silent, apparently deciding how to answer. Eventually, going with the simplest of responses: “Another body dropped.” He said, voice cold as steel. “Oh.” was all he received. Clarus was the first to speak again: “Are you certain? It does not match his MO to strike again this quickly after his last kill.” “I know. Ulric, find out who is the investigating officer and which Forensics team is handling the body.” The younger man nodded and pulled out his phone, stepping away as to not interrupt the rest of their conversation. “We will be leaving asap. You’ll have the report on your desk first thing on Monday.” Regis opened his mouth to argue, but Clarus interrupted him. “No, Regis. Stay with Noctis, even if it is only for one more day! Titus, how sure are you that it was him?” “Iedolas Aldercapt. Shot while taking a leak!” Nyx’s answer surprised Regis and him. “Excuse me?” Regis really hoped he just had misunderstood. “Yeah, the officer on the phone just told me he got shot while being inside a restroom taking a piss. And as to whether we are sure: the bullet moved around corners…” Another exhausted sigh. “Are we sure we are dealing with a full-grown man here? Because the last thing I know is, bullets fly straight lines. How does he even come up with all this shit?” Clarus was evidently just as done with this as the others were. “We’ll look into this. You two go home. Ulric’s team and I will get to the scene and do what’s necessary…” And with that, Drautos marched off, waving towards the other Glaive members to follow him. Everyone knew their Captain well enough by now to know that he meant business. 

The Immortal was not happy! Despite killing his target, it had not been clean. Yes, he had needed to ricochet the bullet off two walls to get to him without actually seeing him, but that still was no excuse! He had miscalculated the resistance of the walls, had expected them to be strong enough to withstand the bullet’s force, but apparently, something had been wrong with that assumption. The second wall was not as sturdy, thus, the bullet bounced off at an incorrect angle. It had hit its target right through the throat rather than the head, resulting in a very messy death. The man had collapsed and laid there literally drowning on his own blood. Now, here he was, awaiting the punishment for his screw-up. He should not have rushed things, but it was not like he had had too much time with that particular target. The man in front of him was tall, he did not know his real name, only addressed him with ‘Gilgamesh’ or ‘sir’. This man was his mentor, his guide and, at times like these, also his worst nightmare. Gilgamesh was a very formidable man. The students who had survived his tutelage respected, but also feared him, as all of them had screwed up and knew what it meant to ‘fail’. Gilgamesh himself had not once failed a mission – his track record was simply perfect. Since he had been taken in and raised by the man, he had never been able to beat him once during their sparring matches. And that was exactly what would happen again, now. Unlike what people might believe, torture did not mean stripping someone off and whipping them until they bled or cutting off limbs. Torture could be delivered in many different ways – and for Gilgamesh, that meant a fight at the verge of life and death. He called it ‘sparring’, but the Immortal knew that if he screwed up, he was very much dead. There was a reason why only a few of his students were still alive; but he would make sure that he would not end up dead: he was not weak, he would persevere. 

Gilgamesh drew his sword and pulled him from his thoughts. In an instant, he focussed on the task at hand. The Immortal unsheathed his katana, and both got into position. “Osu!” Both men started their deadly dance. 

“Iedolas Aldercapt, occupation: evil gangster boss. Shot right through the carotid artery rather than the head, bled out and drowned simultaneously. That certainly is new. And get this: this old bastard made a deal with the Feds over in Miami; to be released of all charges against the gang-rape and human trafficking charges put up against him because he claimed he knew who the Immortal was. Said he had hired him once to remove an unwanted competitor to his position. Knew how to contact him and all. Huh… didn’t think the Immortal would work for such lowlifes.” Ulric made a disgusted face and then turned to his colleagues. Ostium and Altius were talking to the other agents and the owner of the restaurant. Drautos was following the path the bullet had taken. “Did anyone hear what I just said?” “He is a hitman, Ulric, just like others in that line of work. He does what he’s paid for. What did you expect?” Apparently, someone had. The younger agent walked over to his superior. “Well… I thought he might be pickier with his clientele!? Confidentiality is quite important, innit? Someone like Aldercapt does reveal secrets when it serves him best. What are you looking at?” Ulric followed the Captain while the other man walked along the walls rubbing his hand over different parts. “You know, we’re in a public restaurant’s toilet. Not sure you should be doing this without gloves.” Not deigning the other’s statement worthy of a response, Drautos simply continued. When he was done with the wall, he turned around to see where the other little red flag was – indicating the point the bullet had made contact with the first wall. Again, pushing his palm against the wall, the tall man repeated his actions. All the while, Ulric kept silent, watching, trying to understand what was so special about the walls that had the Captain so enthralled. He put one hand right next to the second impact point before he joined Drautos at the first impact point. “Hm… feels different.” The older man nodded. “The wall over there is softer than here. Someone might have done some work on it, it’s definitely not the original structure.” “You are thinking about something, aren’t you?” “I think, our Immortal missed his target.” At that, Ulric had to force down a funny yelp. “Not sure if I would call that missing the target, Captain. Aldercapt is very much dead. Not sure he can be anything worse…” And there came the clap to the back of his head. “I am not talking about that! Look at the walls. You said it yourself, it feels different. My guess is that the Immortal wasn’t aware of this either. The first impact point here is well set, but the second… look at how much of the wall came off when the bullet bounced off. This is the reason why it hit his throat. I doubt this had been his intention.” Drautos’ explanation had caused the others to quiet down and listen to him. “You tryin’ to say the Immortal made a mistake?” Ostium stared at their Captain in awe – maybe there was a god after all? “Yes.” The tall man unsheathed his old combat knife and opened a small evidence bag. When he started scrapping texture off the wall, he received some questioning looks, but nobody really dared say anything. Once done, he glared at the spot where Aldercapt had laid, then he turned around, heading towards his car. “Yes, Captain, we’re taking care of the rest. Just leave it to us!” Ulric yelled after the man with a not-angry huff. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making bad people look worth killing is not as easy as one might think. Neither is hurting good people and giving them the pains! And it will only get worse before it even starts looking better...


	4. Monday is the least favourite work day of the week

The start of the week had been a shitty one. Drautos had not had a moment’s rest, he had been up for the last 36 hours straight. After he had left the crime scene, he had gone to see the coroner to check on the body. He had scared the poor lady and her team to death, demanding to be incredibly careful when performing the autopsy. He wanted any small particles whatsoever collected and analysed. And that asap – no pressure at all. Afterwards, he had walked off to the Ballistics team and demanded they re-created the whole scenario down to a ‘T’. Those guys had been so intimidated by him they did not even blink. Ballistics had easily confirmed his assumptions: the wall with the second impact point had been made of plaster, thus was not as strong to let the bullet ricochet off it as planned. The tech assistant had been so amazed by how the Immortal had calculated the ranges and angles, that Drautos swore he saw hearts in his eyes by the end of it all. Once the group of nerds had calculated the distance between first impact point and sniper location, he made his way to retrieve the bullet cartridge, which – of course – had been left behind: shimmering proudly in the middle of the night. Now, here he was: at his desk, half dead, going through some very old files. The phone call to the Miami branch had been informative in multiple ways. However, during the call he had remembered something he had heard years back while attending psychological profiling classes. There had been someone else once who could control projectile movements. He just needed to remember who that was! 

The Captain leaned back into his chair and rubbed his palms over his face. His body was stiff, and his eyes burned. Supressing a yawn, he took a deep breath. A few seconds away from that glaring screen would certainly not hurt. A loud knock pulled him back to focus. “Come in.” Unsurprisingly, the door was opened by none other than Nyx Ulric. His head popped through with a beaming smile, then, the rest followed. “We finished up at the scene, but you probably already know that anyway. There were no witnesses. Aldercapt’s hired muscle had waited outside the door, didn’t hear a thing over the ‘loud’ music. We also collected the records from the security cams; timespan, last four weeks – Crowe and Lib started going through them, but it’ll take a while.” While talking, Ulric placed a plate with sandwiches and a mug of coffee onto Drautos’ desk, earning a raised eyebrow. “We brought everyone else up to speed already, so when you’re done here, open the windows and get a shower – I can smell burned brain cells everywhere, preferably before the Boss shows up. Which is in two hours! Oh, and your new phone will be delivered to the office tomorrow. You get a shiny new Samsung, so no breaking it for the next six months at least!” Before the other man could utter even one word, the younger agent was gone again. Drautos looked at the plate, then at the coffee. Mind made up, he reached for the latter, but before grabbing it, he turned his head a little towards his right, sniffing and making a disgusted face – a shower might not be such a bad idea after all… 

“How is he?” Crowe asked, holding a sandwich out to Nyx. “Alive – more or less. Drowning in paperwork and probably hating his laptop more than the Board of Directors.” “Same old, then…” Libertus flipped the lid of his laptop shut and focussed all his attention on his own sandwich. “He’ll be ready by the time the Boss comes around, though. So, no worries.” 

And worry they needed not. By the time Regis and Clarus has shown up, the Captain was already sitting in the conference room. He looked much better now, after eating and showering. He was wearing a fresh dress shirt and vest; years of experience having taught him to always keep a spare of everything in the changing rooms. After everyone had taken their seats, he switched on the beamer. The first slide showed the victim’s details. “Iedolas Aldercapt, 55 years old, crime syndicate boss. Miami branch was investigating him for rape, human trafficking and on five accounts of political bribery and seven in kidnapping.” The second slide showed the crime scene. “Confirmed kill number 432. Killed in a closed-off space. The bullet was fired 1,300 yards from the target, went right through a window, bounced off a diagonal wall, hit another wall, doing the same but with less effect. The texture and unprofessional application of plaster caused the bullet to deviate from its intended course, hitting the target in the throat.” The third slide showed a bullet cartridge everyone was familiar with by now. “He did not have enough time to plan properly. Miami branch informed me they had planned to relocate Aldercapt back to another safehouse tomorrow. Considering that Caelum Senior was killed three weeks ago, he must have had little time to plan this out. Considering that he was closer to his target than he usually is, shows that he must have been observing his target.” The fourth slide showed movement and time patterns. “I would even go as far as to say that the decision to kill Aldercapt in the restroom was made on a whim. He knew he was running out of time. Aldercapt rarely went anywhere without proper security. The man was paranoid on a whole new level: keeping himself well hidden, his bodyguards covering him the whole time, movements always too rushed and he never stayed still. This movement pattern was given to him by the Miami branch – it was a trial run of sorts for them as they were not sure how this would work out. Evidently, it was not a bad decision to do so…” “Why’s that?” Drautos looked at Clarus and shrugged. “When you try to shoot someone from afar, the bullet will hit your target with a delay of mere seconds, depending on the distance. If your target is constantly moving around – left, right, up, down – it is more difficult to hit properly. If you pull the trigger when your target moves left, then it may happen that you miss because your target has already moved from that position. Exceedingly difficult – even professionals in the military have issues with that. The best way to shoot a moving target like is to anticipate the next movement. This takes experience and time. Combine that with your target not remaining on the same spot for more than just mere seconds and you will have an infuriating issue to deal with.” 

And this was one of the reasons why Regis had wanted Titus Drautos for his team. The man knew things not even the best trained people knew of. And he was even better at connecting dots with another where people would just see chaotic and irrational nothing. “However, even the best pattern is repetitive. To identify the start and finish, you have to observe your target, learn the pattern and only then you can shoot.” “But if that is the case, why in the restroom?” “I am accepting this question only because you are a woman, Altius. Men don’t wiggle around when taking a piss.” “Unless your name’s Nyx!” Ostium chimed in, earning him equal amounts of glares and sniggers. “That is information I never wanted to know. Mail duty for a week!” Now, it was Ulric's turn to beam happily, a very satisfied smile on his lips. The last slide came up and the Captain turned to Clarus and Regis. “I went through some of the archived files for this – I am sure there was someone else who was able to use surfaces to control projectiles like this. Do you remember any cases similar to this?” Regis shared a glance with Clarus, his expression thoughtful. “Not that I do. But that doesn’t mean anything. Best is to look into this together. I am more than happy to look through dusty files with you than having to attend any more meetings.” Clarus nodded in agreement to Regis’ words, earning them both a chuckle from Drautos. “And it’s only Monday! Anyone got any questions? No – dismissed.” 

The alarm had gone off at exactly oh-five-hundred hours, as usual, and he had tried to get out of bed. Really tried! But his body had ached so badly, he did not get too far. After the fight with Gilgamesh... no, he really could not call it that. After Gilgamesh ripped him apart, he had been left behind to deal on his own; profusely bleeding, trying to keep what little blood he had left in his body. He had slipped; one tiny mistake and Gilgamesh had broken through his guard and cut his throat – how ironic. It was not all too life threatening, but it was enough to make him lose a copious amount of blood. After that cut, the fight just degraded further, taking more and more hits from his mentor. Finally, when he had not been able to stand, his sight going hazy from blood loss, he was thrown onto his ass, point of a blade right in front of his bleeding throat. As always. “I do not tolerate failures, boy. I expect the next assignment to be clean. Now, clean yourself and then the floor. You have two days to recover.” And with that, his mentor was gone. With small uneven steps he had removed himself to his own quarters to sew himself back together as good as possible, only to return to the training hall to clean up the mess he had caused. The chemicals had burned in his nostrils and in the cuts without even touching them. Even after all those years he was still not used to the strong effects of it – but it did do the job, the floor looked really clean afterwards. 

Finally, he had made it out of bed and into the bathroom. He felt disgusting, even though his reflection in the mirror did not show it. The advantage of using swords in combat were obvious: damage was kept only to points of contact, the tissue would not bruise and extend like it would when being hit by a kick or a jab, it was easier to stitch the wounds back together and he would still be able to lay in position for hours to make sure he completed his mission. He wobbled over to the shower and dropped his training shorts and underwear. He had not even bothered to put on anything else after he was done. The warm water stung, but it felt good. While lathering up, his stomach growled loudly, and he hummed in agreement. First things first though: shower, clothes and then food. Afterwards, he would leave to buy a new bag for his rifle. 

“Man, I can’t believe it. Gladio and Ignis teaching us how to fight. Awesome!! I so can’t wait for today’s lesson, dude.” “Yeah, I can see that!” Noctis watched his best friend jump around him, flinging his sports bag about. The blonde had been an excited bundle of nerves all day long already, and Noctis wondered if his friend would still have all this energy once Gladiolus and Ignis were done with them. Was he the only one who did not look forward to it that much? Probably… “Ooh, I wonder if we will put on some muscle with that training…” Yepp, definitely the only one! “Calm down, man. If you keep jumping around like this, you’ll be dead before Gladio can get his hands on you! Talking about the devil…” Prompto turned into the direction Noctis looked and already saw their two older friends approach them. “Hey guys, how you doin’?” “Very well, thank you, Prompto. I hope you two had a good day at school?” Prompto replied with a smile and two thumbs up. “Just waiting for the dessert, now.” “Heh, don’t worry about that Prom. We’ll get you sweating in no time.” Gladiolus chimed in, earning a raised eyebrow from Ignis. “I sometimes wish you would listen to yourself speak, Gladio… it is always such a joy!” Gladiolus tilted his head a little, not understanding what Ignis was implying and why the other two were giggling like schoolgirls. “Erm, okay, whatever, let’s just get going then.” And with that, the four young men made their way down Highstreet; joyfully bickering about and enjoying some quality time… until Prompto managed to jump into another person that stepped out of a shop. The man grumbled a quiet ‘fuck’ before shifting his weight as to not fall over. Out of reflex, he grabbed hold of the person who had literally landed in his arms, fingers clawing their way around his shoulders, pulling on the dressings underneath. On any other day, a lightweight such as the blonde would have been no problem to hold up, but today was certainly not one of those. He could feel one of his stitches tear already. Stumbling a few more steps back, he finally caught his balance, throwing the blonde teen over his shoulder to lessen the weight on his chest. “Dammit, Prom, you alright, mate? I’m sorry, man, he didn’t see you.” The black-haired older boy seemed quite concerned. He put the blonde boy – Prompto – down, frowning. “’s fine.” He was about to bend down when he felt his stitches rip further. “Is everything alright, sir?” the young man with the glasses asked. “’s fine.” he repeated, kneeling rather than just bending down and picking his purchase up. “I am really sorry, mister. I… uhm… I didn’t see ya, y’know… and uhm… woaah!” When he let his gaze fall onto the boy, Prompto turned a dark shade of red. The man in front of him was tall, had short brown hair but the bluest eyes he had ever seen at a person. “You... you have really blue eyes, mister, you know that?” The man’s scowl deepened at that comment further, yet he answered. “I do.” “Dude, stop gawking. That’s so not cool.” The shorter black-haired teen pinched his friend into his side, earning a little squeak. Then, the boy turned towards him. “I’m sorry. We didn’t pay any attention, I guess. We were just on our way to train with Gladio and Ignis. It’s our first session… uhm…” “What Noctis is trying to say is, it won’t happen again.” This must be the boy called Ignis. He simply shrugged, he needed to get back, fast; he could feel blood run down his side and the upper half of his shirt felt a little damp. “Nevermind.” he replied and walked over to his bike that was parked at the curb. He threw one leg over his machine, put the helmet on, secured his purchase and joined the traffic. 

“Okay… that was something…” “Weird.” “Peculiar.” “Wow.” All eyes landed on Prompto. “What? Don’t you think he really had some nice eyes?” “Yeah, and a very scary scowl” Noctis retorted laughing. “Dude, I knew you were into older guys. But don’t you think he was a little too old?” And there was that blush again. “That’s not what I meant. I just think that his eyes were really pretty. And so what, if he’s nice on the eyes?” “C’mon guys. Chill. Noct, Promto can crush on anyone he wants. Prom, no crushing while we’re training, that’s disgusting. And you might want to get that red paint off your jacket.” Prompto looked down at himself and let out a surprised huff. When did that happen? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished work, finished workout, finished chapter. Enjoy.


	5. Past and Present

After he had returned to their current residence, he already felt dizzy. He threw the door to his room shut, divested himself of the black jacket and the two shirts before walking into his bathroom, retrieving his sewing kit – he needed to get himself patched up before passing out, otherwise he would bleed all over the place again. He sat onto the edge of the bed, got one needle out and started on the thread, his fingers not shaking in the slightest, too used to this by now. Next, he sprayed disinfectant onto the needle and the open wound, growling. Then, he pinched the damaged skin together and started pushing the needle through. 

While focussing solely on sewing himself back together, the dizzy feeling started to fade. His senses becoming sharper with every small sting of pain. “What happened, boy?” Without stopping, the Immortal replied without a second thought. “Someone jumped into me. Kids fooling around.” He mentally went over what had happened at the shop and for a moment he stopped. “Is there something else?” “One of the boys looked like someone I once knew… I think.” He shook his head, trying to focus on the pain. When he was done with the wound on his side, he cut off the thread and started anew. The one cut on his left pectoral also needed some new stitches. Before he could get started though, Gilgamesh took the needle from him. He sat down next to the other man and started sewing. “Who did he look like?” The Immortal closed his eyes, contemplating. After a few moments, his scowl had deepened further – evidence that he was not happy with himself. “I don’t know. I can’t say. It’s all blurred.” He watched his mentor cut the thread and chuckled. “It has been years since you last helped with that.” “Normally you don’t need help.” “I screwed up; I know. It won’t happen again. I rushed things. Assumed…” “Assumption is the mother of all failures, boy. I thought I had drilled that into you already!” The Immortal shrugged. “You drilled a lot into me. Just needed a reminder, it seems.” His mentor let out a bark at that. “If you want me to wipe the floor with you, all you have to do is ask.” “Thanks, but no thanks. Let me heal up first and then we can talk. And stop calling me boy, old man. You said you’d give me two days to recover. But you have another target for me, don’t you?” “First, I call you whatever I want, boy. Second, yes, there is another target. In fact, there are multiple, be patient. You won’t be able to move quickly with this wound on your side.” The Immortal raised an eyebrow. “I can handle it. Why did we come to Kansas? It seems to me there is more to these targets than you tell me.” “You won’t, and that’s final! And you are right, there is more to this than meets the eye, boy. But you need not to concern yourself with that. I will tell you when you need to know. Do what I trained you for.” He was not too happy with that response but nodded still. “Yes, sir.” “Trust me boy, my reasons are sincere. There are men in this city who must pay their debts and some must be judged. Enough of that. I shan’t tell you more. Rest, you need it. For once, I will take care of the next target. It has been some time after all...” “Understood.” He watched Gilgamesh get up and leave his room, closing the door quietly. He remained still for another few seconds before laying back and closing his eyes. 

After their team meeting, Altius, Ostium and Ulric had disappeared into their office to review all the security recordings from the restaurant. Lazarus and his team had been assigned to meet up with the Miami branch. Their task was to go through all of Aldercapt’s stuff. If the man had known how to establish contact with the hitman, then they needed to find it now. Drautos, Regis and Clarus had retired into the agency’s library, going through all cases Mors and colleagues had ever worked on in the last 40 years and anything else that sounded suspiciously similar to what they needed. All teams were meant to call in if they found anything – now, hours later, still not one phone call. Clarus threw another file onto the rising pile of reviewed documents and sighed disapprovingly. “This… is getting us nowhere.” He got up from his chair and started stretching. “Do you have any other ideas?” Regis did not even look up from his file. “Something doesn’t add up here. It can’t be just me, guys.” the Captain growled. “Maybe we should just…” _Jabba_ _jabba_ _do-doo_ _ja_ _ja_ _yeah… Jabba_ _jabba_ _do-doo_ _ja_ _ja_ _yeah…_ “Amicitia?” Clarus turned around and mouthed ‘Gladio’ to his friends, so they did not get their hopes up. “No, I won’t be able to make it. There is too much work left…” he said, looking disgruntled at the mountain of files in front of him. “Just leave it, we’ll get a new one. How about take-out? Ah, good. Indeed, you should consider yourself lucky. You do that, just don’t reinvent the wheel, alright? Yeah, later…” “Aside from that disturbing ringtone you have. That didn’t sound too good, old friend.” Regis finally dropped the file onto the pile and looked at Clarus. “The boys popped over after their training session today and broke the microwave. Lucky for them, Ignis offered to be cooking.” Regis smiled warmly. Those boys really were something. “I am glad they are so close. It reminds me a lot on what we had with Cid, Weskham and Cor…” Realizing what he had just said, Regis’s smile fell, and sadness took its place. Drautos kept quiet but did share a glance with Clarus. “What happened to Cor was not your fault. It was an accident, Reggie.” “And yet, here I am, and he’s gone… if you excuse me.” Regis got up and headed for the door. Clarus wanted to follow him, but the Captain stopped him. “Don’t. Give him a moment.” The older man nodded and flopped back down onto his seat next to the other. He pulled out his wallet and grabbed hold of a small neatly folded piece of paper. He showed it to Drautos. “This is us and our friends almost 33 years back. Guy with the cap is called Cid, the one with the monocle is Weskham and the grumpy looking boy is Cor. We were travelling across the globe during the summer break; 10 weeks of amazing fun. At least that had been the plan.” “What happened?” Clarus shrugged. “We got into fights here and there. Mostly because of Regis’ and Cor’s big mouth. Of course, we ended up pissing off the wrong person, must have. The next thing we knew is us sitting in Regis’ car, trying to stay on the road because we had a flat a tyre. The car toppled over, landed in a ditch. When we got out, there was this guy. He was standing there right in front of us, carrying a fucking sword around! Thought he was totally nuts. Weskham and Cid tried to talk us out of it, but all they got were a broken knee and a dislocated shoulder. Before we could do anything else, Cor the little shit challenged the guy to a fight. I mean, admittedly, Cor was good for his age, but he was still a kid back then, 13 years old… the guy just tore him apart. Didn’t stop until he was dead. And then he took the body, threw us a silver coin and left…” With a fluid motion of his hand, Clarus exhaled, looking as if he was lost in that memory… until a hand was placed onto his shoulder. “The man from that night turned out to be the Immortal. The silver coin had the same symbol as we have on the bullet cartridges now. That bastard didn’t even leave a body to be buried.” Regis got rarely angry, but at that moment, it radiated off him. Rather than saying anything, Drautos folded his arms in front of his chest and closed his eyes, thinking. When Clarus’ phone broke through the silence once again, the man grabbed it off the table and answered it, putting it on speaker. “Amicitia. What is it, Ulric?” “Just a status update, sir.” The agent’s voice stated, he sounded just as exhausted as they felt. “We’re halfway through the recordings, but the problem is that it’s not complete. A few days are missing. Crowe and Lib – I mean Agents Altius and Ostium – are on their way to get the missing dates from the restaurant owner. Once we have those we will start from scratch. Putting the recordings into one logical timeline. Might find something then.” “Do that. Any word from agent Lazarus?” “Nope, but they still have another hour before they need to check in, anyway. You guys need anything?” “No thank you, Ulric. We are fine over here. We will call it a day soon and continue tomorrow. You should do the same.” “Sure, Boss. Alright. Tomorrow, then.” And with that the line went dead. 

Drautos still had not moved from his spot, his eyes remained closed. He knew Regis and Clarus were looking at him, but he did not care. There was something that really did not make any sense and he was determined to figure it out. “Titus, I hope you didn’t fall asleep on us. You’re too heavy for us to carry you. You know, we can always come back tomorrow and go through some more files.” Regis spoke amused, trying to lighten the mood. Suddenly, the Captain stood. Determination in his eyes, he marched over to the pile of reviewed files and fumbled around, until he found what he was looking for. Clarus and Regis just threw a questioning look at him. “What if…” he started, making his way to an old flipchart, picking up one of the pens. “… we are dealing with two people after all?” “No, Titus. We already thought about that. It’s not possible.” “Just humour me, Regis. Ignore every single profile that was put together for the Immortal.” Drautos drew one horizontal line, on the far left, he put down an ‘x’ with a year mark of 1979. “This is the first time Mors dealt with the Immortal, right?” “1977.” Regis interrupted. Correcting the year, the tall man put another ‘x’ onto the line. “This is when you guys met the Immortal.” “In 1987” Drautos added the date onto the chart, then added a third ‘x’ with the date of a few days ago. “You are free to fire me, but what if the Immortal Mors was hunting was a different man than the one we are dealing with?” Below the years, he wrote down the difference: 70 vs 40. “If you ask me, a 70-year old male will not be able to shoot as well or keep up with the mission load, no matter the training he undergoes. But if said man had, let’s say, a student. Someone he could mould into the perfect image of what he needed: the same habits, same articulation, same fighting style… then, we are able to understand how he can move across the globe and continue meeting all his targets like he does.” Regis and Clarus exchanged sceptical looks. Evidently not quite agreeing with the other man. The latter rolled his eyes, waiting for the proverbial ‘click’. And when it happened, it was accompanied with an ‘oh’. “Are you trying to say that Cor – our baby brother – is the Immortal? Because, you know, I am truly feeling like I want to fire you for that.” Regis stated, heart evidently in his throat. “Titus, we saw the Immortal, the real one, killing him in front of our eyes.” “How sure are you about that? From what you just told me he took the body. Did you ever recover it?” Regis went silent again, dropping his gaze to the floor. “No, we did not, but it is really a stretch, Titus. If Cor had somehow survived what the Immortal had done to him, why would he kill Mors, why would he not come back? Cor was hot-headed, yes, but he was a good kid. He would have never killed anyone.” The Captain simply raised an eyebrow. “Listen… I know it sounds ridiculous, but this makes sense. If I were a cold-blooded killer, I would certainly try to find someone to continue my work. Especially if I had some weird god-complex or whatever.” Drautos shrugged, “I don’t know if I should be pleased or creeped out by that, Titus.” Regis shook his head, still trying to process the information presented to him. “It’s hard to accept this. You are giving me hope where I know there shouldn’t be any. And it’s just raising more questions… Cor would never kill, and if you’re right, it means that the Immortal killed even before my father started hunting him.” “I don’t have all the answers, Regis. But what I do know is, that we need to start from scratch. Throw out all the profiles we have. Start over completely.” With disdain, Drautos looked at the pile of files they already went through. “And we need to start looking through all the files again…” Clarus hummed. “What should we look for in your opinion?” “You said the Immortal used a sword? That means he was a close-combat fighter. Look for that… rather than people who got killed by GSWs, we expand the search into cold cases involving stab wounds and executions. Perhaps the symbol evolved over time. And if I’m wrong about this – I hand in my resignation in a pink rabbit costume.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got my leave approved, which means one week full of training... and writing. Enjoy!


	6. Corrective Action - Preventive Action

That Gladiolus was pissed was an understatement. Yes, he understood that his father had his ‘duty’ as he liked to call it, but that did not excuse him being absent for 3 days. Iris had been so unhappy that she had even faked a cough, hoping that she did not have to go to school and dad coming over to check on her – nope! The bastard even had the balls to switch off his phone. Ignis had suggested to phone through to the office and Crowe had told him that Clarus had told them the three men would be unavailable and not to be disturbed until further notice. And exactly because of that, here he was, marching down the floor of the FBI library towards the door behind which his father was hiding. Prompto, Noctis and Ignis were following him quietly. They had decided it was the safest to come along, just in case. 

The three men inside the room looked up from their work when the door flew open. “Gladiolus… is something wrong?” “You just disappear on us for 3 days straight, without any explanation as to why and any means of contact. Iris is devastated and misses you. And all you ask is if something is wrong!? Yes, dad, there fuckin’ is, and it’s you not being there for your family…” And here comes the drama. Clarus frowned when his son built himself up front of him, taking an intimidating stance. “I told you before, that sometimes, work takes precedence. I have been gone for days before – Iris and you both know that.” His voice was calm and collected. “You missed Iris’ school performance. She even faked a fuckin’ cold to stay at home afterwards because she was so fuckin’ scared to be laughed at because you didn’t show.” Gladiolus was fuming, normally he would have spoken well mannered, but now his language went out the window. “Gladiolus, you will watch your mouth when talking to me and calm yourself. I will apologize to Iris when I get home, but this…” he pointed at a very busy flipchart. “… is important right now!” The younger man threw up his arms in exasperation, his voice a little too shrill. “What can be more important than your own family?” “Family.” Regis replied from the side-lines, completely throwing Gladiolus off his temper tantrum. “What?” “We might have found someone we believed dead for a long time.” Now, it was Noctis’ voice who cut through the tension. “Dad, what’s going on?” “We think Cor might be still alive, son. This is why we were so busy these past few days. Our little brother Cor…” Regis did not finish his sentence, but his son understood. Noctis looked at Gladiolus and knew that he understood as well. They both had heard the stories of Regis’ and Clarus’ little brother who had died early on, saving their lives. Gladiolus deflated and turned to his father once more. “Why didn’t you say something? Why did you have to keep it a secret? Literally everyone is curious as to what you guys are doing down here…” “Because he is the Immortal.” Okay, so much for being subtle. Regis and Clarus just threw Drautos a glare that spoke volumes. “What? They’ll find out anyway.” “You mean, uncle Cor, the ‘he would have made a great uncle if he were alive’ uncle Cor, is the hitman called ‘the Immortal’? Okay…” Noctis plopped down onto the floor, his friends by his side, fussing. The Captain signalled Ignis to shut the door before grabbing a bottle of water, throwing it over to Gladiolus. “We’ll explain, so sit your arses down, keep your mouths shut and listen carefully.” he grumbled. 

“I think I will never eat out at that place again – ever!” Crowe gulped down some water before a full shiver went through her whole body. “Yeah… I don’t even think I wanna eat out at any public restaurant for a very long time.” Libertus agreed, not able to divert his eyes from the screens. “And I will try to not make the Captain’s life more of a hell than it already is. Man… it’s time he’s coming out of his hole. One more day keeping this unit in order and I’ll shoot myself.” The trio had spent the last few days reviewing the security cam’s recording as well as making sure the unit continued running smoothly in the absence of all three superiors. That included Nyx handling calls from the Board of Directors who had inquired on Regis’ and Clarus’ whereabouts as well as unnecessary arguments with Luche who had said that he and his team decided to fly back after coming up empty handed. Apparently, Aldercapt’s comment about knowing how to contact the Immortal had been a blown up lie and their dear colleagues had bought it. Also, the Miami branch unit chief seemed to be some kind of pervert that had managed to creep out Luche and his team – Nyx had decided that this was actually worth looking further into at some point. A few new ideas on how to piss off his colleague might lighten his day! Overall, they had been neck-deep in work getting nowhere fast. 

Suddenly, the door was ripped open. It was Gladiolus. “Team meeting in 10, guys.” he said and was gone again. All three of them popped their heads out of their office, staring after the younger man. “What.” “Da hell.” “Was that?” “Look at those faces… did you guys go stupid in there or what? He said team meeting in 10 minutes.” Tredd Furia – Luche’s best friend – walked past the three heads hitting Nyx’s on purpose, disappearing into the direction of where said meeting room was located. The black-haired women rolled her eyes. “One day, I swear, I am going to kill Luche and Tredd. They deserve it.” Libertus nodded. “I’ll set up the alibis.” “And I’ll hide the bodies.” 

10 minutes later, every Glaive member. was sitting in the conference room, waiting for whatever Gladiolus had announced. He had gathered everyone and started up the beamer, then sat down, patiently waiting and ignoring the questions that were being thrown at him. At sixteen-hundred sharp, the door opened, and their three superiors walked through, followed by Ignis, who was carrying a new set of files. “Every one of you will receive an updated file on the hitman called ‘the Immortal’. The file contains profiles of two individuals, titled ‘mentor’ and ‘student’, their killing patterns and the differences. Everything you know about the Immortal is not relevant from this point moving forward.” Drautos took over the remote for the beamer, flicking from blue-screen to the first slide. It showed two similar symbols, A sword, one which had a balance scale as a guard, the other partially folded wings. “First, it was presumed the Immortal’s trademark sign had changed over the years, establishing something like a brand of his own, now we know that wasn’t the case. The similarities between both signs are intentional – representing mentor and student. While going through the archives, we’ve identified multiple murders from before 1977 – giving us a timespan of over 60 years. The records ended there, but we believe that the murders happened even before then. The Immortal isn’t just one man, it’s a tradition handed over to continue with the line of work. To make such a transition seamless, it’s crucial to educate the student from an early age, align behavioural patterns, movement; everything. To maintain autonomy with assignments, only one of the men strikes – either the mentor or the student. To remain unidentified, they travel separately to cover more ground. But the kills are planned so that travel time between both hits is still realistic for just one person. However, both men coordinate well, so they must be tuned in with another – like siblings, or very close friends. One can start a sentence and the other can finish it. Nevertheless, there is still an existing hierarchy present, so one follows the other.” The Captain brought up the second slide. “Psychologically, it’s possible to teach young children to become more adept in understanding their senior’s behaviour, thinking and ideals; world view. The older the student, the more difficult it’ll be to tune him in. Which leads us to expect that the original ‘Immortal’ must have ‘tested’ multiple children and then selected the most promising out of them to take on his mantle. The connection between mentor and student is very strong. The student must not doubt his mentor – if there is the slightest notion of it, the whole thing will backfire. The training is military-grade to ingrain the ‘mind over matter’ discipline which is one of the most crucial factors for being an effective soldier or hitman. The student very likely doesn’t have much exposure to anything aside from this – a true piece of work if you want to call him that. He’ll be socially awkward, standing out among the masses. He’s not capable of blending in well, his presence standing out, no matter what. He’s rough around the edges, his presence very likely intimidating. He won’t be able to lie, and intimacy must be something that limits itself only to training.” A short rumble went through the room, but Drautos remained unimpressed – he seriously had zero nerves left for this shit. Children… all of them! The third slide flashed up, showing two profiles. “We expect the mentor to be in his 60-ies or 70-ies. He must be well trained to remain on active duty, even though the student is now carrying the majority of the workload. The student should be in his 40-ies. Both men must be of the same built and hight. They are living together, no personal items. Their place very likely looks like a newly bought flat or house. This allows them to move about quickly. If there are any personal items, they limit themselves to their weaponry. We expect them to use safehouses. Places they have bought over the years under falser names.” When the Captain stepped back, Clarus took his place, continuing. “Mentor and student are family. The mentor must make sure that the student has no other family left, no one to return to. He must feel like the only place he belongs is with his mentor. It is very likely that the mentor is choosing children based on a specific set of characteristics. If he finds these in a child, he takes the child in, removing the family if the connection is too strong. During the ‘cleansing’ period, the student is broken down by force. Mentally as well as physically. This may include bodily torture and mental isolation. The student must forget about returning to his old life and accept the new one, under the tutelage and mercy of his mentor. The mentor holds the student’s life. He decides if he lives or dies. We also think that there might be some sort of reward-punishment-system implemented, but we aren’t sure.” The next slide came on. “Once the ‘cleansing’ is done, the student needs to be ‘re-created’. This is where the mentor must be most careful. If he fails to teach properly, then those mistakes in behaviour, articulation or even thinking pattern will carry over and become an error he cannot correct later on. All work for nothing; the student won’t be his identical mirror image so to speak. If the ‘re-creation’ was successful, then the student will be sent out on his first mission. Killing is part of the education and re-creation. It’s ingrained and becomes something as normal as breathing for him. The same goes for fighting. The student has no regard for law – his mentor’s word is the law.” The next slide came up and Clarus handed over to Regis. “Despite the training, mentor and student both understand that they are different. They know they’re doing something that is ‘against the law’. They simply choose to ignore it. The target selection is based on the mentor’s principles and own set of rules. He decides who gets to live and who dies. They do not have any regard for gangs or corruption – because these things are considered as ‘bad’. They do hold their work in honours. They kill those who break the law, and they ‘test’ those who may be worth redemption. It has nothing to do with religious beliefs; it’s their own ‘Codex’ of sorts: only the strong survive. How this ties in with being hired, we cannot say. Yet! Physically, both men are at peak performance – engaging with either of them would be extremely dangerous. Yes, that also includes a 60-plus year old, Lazarus. Their ability to use sniper rifles is well versed, but we expect their close-combat skills to be even better. You might want to compare their skill level with that of Navy SEALS, if not even better. It is a scary thought, but those two men don’t have anyone but each other. They are literally fighting the whole world. They are very self-sufficient. Despite their inability to blend in to ‘normal life’ as we know it, they are smart enough to educate themselves on anything they need to accomplish their missions. That includes any and all technology, a la: everything is allowed in love and war. We expect more murders to happen – something has caught the mentor’s attention. We don’t know what, but we think he has returned to finish something. If we figure out what that ‘something’ is, we will be able to find those two men… and stop them. Now, who has questions?” 

Killing the man had been easy, it was common for soldiers to become more reckless when rising the ranks to quickly; especially when they were too full of themselves. Entering the house had been laughable – right through the unlocked backdoor, nobody had seen him despite ample light of the afternoon sun. The man had put up a fight; tried to… but it had not been enough, pathetic. It had been all too easy to break the man’s neck. The boy truly seemed like the only person alive who could at least keep up with him – more or less. The boy… he was displeased that he seemed to have remembered someone from his old life. Even if it had just been a ‘feeling of some sorts’ he needed to take care of it. He would remove these pesky thoughts from the boy’s mind. He needed a focussed soldier, not a remembering mess of emotions – and that is what the boy would become if he remembered. Especially when he realized who he was expected to kill. He needed a good plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am starting to hate the formatting issues... enjoy.


	7. The choices we make...

The meeting had been like a bomb going off in a shopping mall: fashionably colourful. The whole unit had gone completely crazy after their bosses had concluded the presentation of the new profiles. With that, they had been able to clean out all unnecessary data sets, tied up all loose ends and started anew. Their game plan now included to find that ‘something’ Regis had been talking about: the link between the deaths to those men. Lazarus’ team continued turning over every stone in Aldercapt’s life while Ulric's team was investigating the new murder that had been called in mere hours ago. One dead Caligo Ulldor – a man high up in the military, working under some rising star called Verstael Besithia. Death by broken neck. And the third team was continuing their investigation into cold cases in the library back in D.C. – maybe they could find further proof that ‘the Immortal’ had his own pedigree of sorts. Everyone was working hard, digging the proverbial hole Drautos always seemed to be talking about, and, even if some refused to admit it, the man had been right – if you dug deep enough, you would find something eventually. Not caring about the weekend, all teams had powered through, but that took their toll. 

It was Thursday evening – one week after the new profile was released – the Captain stepped out of his office. “Everyone listen up, you people will drop your shit and leave. I want all of you to take 24 hours of leave. Sleep, eat and recover. I don’t want to see anyone before Saturday ten-hundred hours, understood?” Using his most intimidating stance, Drautos cracked his fingers, ready to take on anyone who was stupid enough to argue. Sadly, though, nobody did – not even Ulric. Once everyone had filtered out, he turned off the lights and locked the doors, making his way home, preparing for another battle he needed to fight privately. 

The idea was simple: making it up to little Iris. Gladiolus and Iris had been sulking like little children for days non-stop when his father had returned home after his almost four days of absence. And he had not been the only one. When Regis has returned home, he had found his son, Prompto and Ignis doing the same. Even though Ignis utterly failed at it, but it was adorable that his son had managed to rope the elder into it. After a quick call between both fathers, they had realized it was a not-so-well-thought-out plan of their children to make them feel guilty. First, neither of them wanted to give in, but eventually, they conceded. Especially after Clarus had called Regis a second time, telling him that Iris had brought out her most dangerous weapon: tears and puppy-dog-eyes. Nobody could resist those! And because it had become a tradition over the past few years anyway, they had planned their next get-together, called up Drautos, because he was practically family too by now, and decided to go out for a movie and something to eat once Friday came around. The Captain first had tried to talk himself out of it, Regis practically ordering him to join. If they had to suffer through the newest ‘Moogle’s Amazing Adventure’ movie, then so had he! Sharing was caring, after all, right?! They had all met up at Clarus’ home. After Regis had informed the Board of Directors to ‘kindly insert something solid to where the sun didn’t shine’, the group had dissolved immediately, leaving Clarus and him to actually do some productive work, allowing both men to finish on time for some much-needed quality time. With the rest of the unit out, they had been able to catch up on anything the teams had found – it had been a wise decision to send them home. 

Now, here they were, all of them sitting in Iris’ most favourite restaurant, trying to forget the last couple of days – specifically the last two hours – and be at least somewhat cheerful, even if it was only for the little girl. Fortunately, Prompto and Gladiolus had it all handled. They were keeping the others busy with their mischief while the three older men finally got a moment of respite. “I seriously don’t understand how these movies sell so well. I felt my brain cells die a slow and painful death while sitting through that movie. I practically could hear them screaming in agony.” Clarus admitted with a sigh, nursing an orange juice to mend those ‘wounds’. Regis and Titus chuckled amused. “No, that was the happy squealing from the kids. But it’s a children’s movie, what did you expect?” “He’s right, and just to be clear – I will return the favour with some more files for you to go through once we’re back at the office.” “Everything is better than suffering through another one of those movies.” The small whine that escaped Clarus’ lips made the other men snigger even more. Clarus Amicitia was a tough nut to crack, but when it came to family, he was like jelly in very small hands. “Dad?” Talking about the devil – or angel. Iris’ big brown eyes locked onto their target. “I’m tired. Can we go home?” Clarus smiled lovingly at his little girl, nodding. “Have you finished your meal?” A curt nod. “Have you washed your hands?” Another nod. “Then let me pay and we’ll go home.” “Yey… Gladdi, up.” Running over to her brother, the young man picked her up easily throwing her over the shoulder. “She’s grown up a lot. How old is she now? 10?” “Yeah, time flies buy when you’re not around…” 

After Clarus had paid, the group had left the restaurant, heading back. All had agreed to drop off Iris, the boys content to keep an eye out for her while the three men would go out for a round of beers. Gladiolus and Ignis had insisted, stating how ‘well deserved’ it was. Even Jared, their butler, had insisted and agreed to make sure the kids all got what they needed to have a nice evening. And with that, the three men had left the Amicitia residence, content, not aware of the man watching them from afar. 

The evening had turned into night quickly. It was roughly past twenty-two-hundred hours when he moved from his position. The lights had been out for an hour in the house now. He moved quickly from shadow to shadow, climbed up the tree next to the house and let himself land silently on the roof. One of the larger windows on the second floor had remained open, the perfect access to the house. It was not like him to just kill without proper preparation and surveillance, but he had concluded that it needed to be done. After the three men had left for the bar, he had followed them silently, listening in on their conversations. First, it had been nothing, but once they had entered the pub, they had started talking about what he had expected: the boy. He had felt a spur of anger rise; how dare those imbeciles even believe to take the boy from him? Had those two not learned from their first encounter that there was no hope? He had left them alive because the boy had shown immense promise, but it seemed this needed to be taken care of now – a reminder to stay away! Gilgamesh made his way down the stairs, opening one door quietly and looking inside. It was the room of the little girl. She was laying in bed, sleeping soundly while the other boys were scattered around on the floor. The nightlight illuminating the room enough so he could see all their faces. He agreed. The boy had been right. One of the elder kids looked very much like his father. What had been the odds for these kids running into his boy and trigger a memory?! Gilgamesh closed the door and moved on. There had been someone else, he needed to take care of that first. He moved to the next room which turned out to be empty; and so did the next three. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to listen. Then he heard it, quiet, humming. He moved towards the origin of the noise and opened the door. The room was empty, frowning, he looked around until he heard the splashing of a toilet. Fair enough. He hid away and waited for his target to re-emerge to the room. 

Jared walked in, yawning. Ready to go to bed. Those kids had been trying to say the least. Running around playing tag with Iris, insisting he played along. His old bones did not appreciate that! Being in service for the Amicitia’s for years meant that he loved the kids just like his own. How could he say no to any of them, but, still…!? He switched off the music player and was ready to leave when the shadows shifted, and a man stepped out from within the dark. Working as a butler meant that Jared had seen a lot, so even now his courtesy did not leave him despite the creeping fear. “My name is Jared Hester and you are currently trespassing, sir. May I inquire as to why you are here? Before I call the police and the owner of the house, that is.” “I have come to deliver a message to the owner. A reminder of sorts.” Jared narrowed his eyes, he was no fool, he knew what Clarus and Regis had been working on lately, and he also knew what they had discovered. That this man would be on their heels this quickly, though, was impressive. Unless… he had never lost them. The man in front of him was evidently dangerous but that did not mean he could not try to achieve a positive outcome. “And what message would that be, sir?” “Death.” Alright, so much for damage control. “I want the children. And there is little you can do about it.” “Sir, with all due respect, but I cannot let you have them. Whatever quarrels you may have with the owner of this house, the children have nothing to do with it.” “They do. They will serve as a lesson to those ignorant to danger.” “Sir, I cannot let you harm the children.” Despite his fear, Jared took a step forward. He would be damned if he let his own fear cost him the lives of those kids! Gilgamesh stepped forward as well. “You cannot possible believe to win, do you?” “Of course not, I am no fool. Yet, I cannot let you harm the children. Sir! It is my responsibility to do everything I can to stop you – even if it is just an attempt.” Gilgamesh chuckled darkly – he was impressed by this act of courage. The wicked smile on his lips hidden behind the mask he was wearing. “I cannot leave without being sure that my message is received.” “Then let me deliver it, not the kids.” “You are willing to give your life for them?” Without a second thought, Jared nodded. “If you promise to keep the children alive, certainly.” “So be it. You have my word. Come now, we have little time left.” 

The three men returned just past midnight. They had not drunk too much – spending their time talking about what to do if their baby brother really was a hitman. It was not like the law would just let him walk or anything. It was a delicate situation. Titus had raised a few good questions during their heated argument. What would they do if they ran into the man during one of his missions? Would he recognize them? Would he shoot – would they shoot? All those questions gave them just more frustrations. Especially Regis. At some point he had started yelling and needed to calm down first before they continued. Titus had avoided to get himself involved too much in this, only adding his two cents here and there. In his opinion, things were simple: kill or be killed. You could not turn a rabid dog into a cuddly pet. But then, Regis had given him a chance when no one else had years back, so, he should at least make the effort to help them ‘save’ their little brother. 

First, they did not suspect anything. Clarus had opened the front door, but they had remained there a little while longer, talking to Titus before he would depart to his own place. When Jared did not come to greet them as usual, they walked in. Lights were on, but no sound. Titus switched into ‘soldier-mode’ immediately and he and Clarus pulled Regis behind them. Slowly, they made their way into the living room. Only to find the old man sprawled across the large mahogany table, a dagger sticking out of his chest. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Clarus turned on his heel, running up the stairs. Titus could hear him yell his older son’s name before a door hit the wall. “My god, no… Titus. He knows…” The man just nodded, taking out his phone and dialling the first number that came to mind: Nyx Ulric’s. While he waited for the man to pick up, he turned towards Regis. “Go, I’ve got this.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Training was easy today. So, another chapter. I'm sorry, but I'm not... Enjoy!


	8. ... define our actions

He liked the new medical thread. It was good quality, and it dissolved automatically, so he only needed to remove the ends. Finishing up with ministrations, he disinfected the tweezers and scissors before putting them back where they belonged. It had been nice to have a few days off, it certainly had helped with the healing process. Gilgamesh did make him train though, and he agreed. He could not do nothing, that would have driven him crazy. With all that free time at his hand, he had had enough time to think. Those boys had invaded his thoughts on more than one occasion. Especially the one called ‘Gladio’. He could not say why, but it felt like he should have remembered something when seeing the young man. It was there, right at the tip of his tongue but that was it. It made him angry. Angry, that he could not remember. Angry, that he felt anger in the first place about something so simple. And it was not like his mentor had been too helpful with this either. He had taken care of the target and then he had said that he needed to deliver a message to an ‘old acquaintance’. Knowing the older man, he probably had killed someone, but what irked him about this whole thing was, that he did not tell him what was going on. They usually talked about their targets. Their plans. Made sure they could strike without leaving a trace afterwards. Whatever the other man was doing made no sense to him. They never killed so quickly successively. He sighed. He would try once more to talk to the other man. 

Throwing the towel onto the bed, he started dressing. Once done, he left his room and walked to the training grounds. Of course, Gilgamesh was there. Practicing an old kata. He remembered how long it had taking him to learn that thing to near perfection. Nowadays, he could walk through this kata backwards, with closed eyes. “You used to be very clumsy when you started practicing this kata. Do you remember?” He smiled. “I do. You made sure that I got better though. Fast.” “What is it boy? Are you still thinking about those kids?” He nodded, not caring if the other man saw or not. “It is irritating. I cannot get it out of my head. It distracts me and I know there is something you aren’t telling me. I want to know…” “You don’t want anything, boy.” Gilgamesh interrupted without stopping his kata, his tone cold and sharp. “However, I understand that it is distracting you. If I tell you, I am expecting you to return to duty without another complaint.” His body automatically tensed up, knowing it would receive a new order. “Yes, sir.” Not receiving another comment from his elder, he waited for the kata to be finished. Once done, Gilgamesh took a sip of water, then beckoned him to come over. “Sit.” He sat down in seiza, lowering his gaze onto the floor a few feet in front of him, focussing on what his mentor was going to say next. Gilgamesh started walking around him, slowly. “When I took you in, you were at the brink of death. I took you away from people who would have gotten you killed. In fact, because of those people you almost died. You tried to protect them, defended them with your life and how did they repay you? By leaving you behind! Nobody came for you because nobody cared. They declared you dead and that was it. The boys you have met the other day; one of them looks like his father. The father of that boy was one of those men who betrayed you. He was one of those who almost got you killed, who left you behind. I think not remembering did you good, boy. But it seems that seeing that youngster triggered an old memory.” Gilgamesh stopped in front of him, crouching down. He lifted his gaze to look his mentor straight into his eyes. “Those men are not worth any thought. The only thing they deserve is punishment. Don’t you think it is right to repay them for their betrayal?” He kept silent for a moment longer, contemplating. It made sense... somehow. If they had cared, they would have come for him, right? Perhaps, things would have been different then? No… probably not. “Revenge is petty, only for the weak, and we should not pursue it. Why is it different now?” “Because it affects you. And I will not tolerate that!” Standing up again, Gilgamesh continued circling around the younger man. “I have delivered the message to that man two nights ago. It was a warning – should he choose to ignore it, then he must die.” “And the others? You said there were more.” “There are only two that need taking care of. He and another man. The son of the man you killed at the conference. The names of the men are Regis Lucis Caelum and Clarus Amicitia.” Something clicked into place for the younger man. An eye for an eye… 

The man called ‘the Immortal’ growled, clenching his fists tighter. “Then give the order, sir.” Gilgamesh stopped behind him, the younger man not aware of the triumphant smile he wore. Who knew a little could go such a long way? Then the younger man heard his mentor’s answer; loud and clear. 

After Drautos had called Ulric, the man had made sure to take pictures with his phone’s camera. People had always been wrinkling their nose when they saw that he was carrying around a pair of leather gloves in the back of his jean’s pocket – it had become a habit that carried over from the military to the rest of his life. It had been advantageous on previous occasions already, and now it served him well again. He had moved quickly, checking the dead man’s pockets, and hands, looking for something specific. When he had found what he was looking for – a small silver coin – he had removed it from the body. Clarus and Regis had joined him after they had checked on their kids, making sure everything was fine. He had shown the coin to both men, confirmation on the message that was meant to be delivered. While the men had been busy, Gladio and Ignis had removed Noctis and Iris from the house – through the back door, of course. They did not need to see this! Overall, it had taken them a whole day to collect the evidence, bag the body and clean up the mess that had been left behind. 

Now, all three men were sitting in Drautos’ office, scowling, thinking hard how to proceed. That the Immortal was one of the most dangerous men they knew had been evident from the very beginning. He was on many countries’ ‘Most Wanted’ list nowadays. But having to deal with that man’s mentor was just screamed ‘death ahead’. The message the man had left behind had been received, loud and clear: ‘stay away from him’. It was also clear, that Regis and Clarus would not stay away. If anything, now, those two were even more determined to get to their baby brother and stop him and his mentor. “I want the unit to be re-assigned to other cases, Titus. They should not get involved with this.” Regis said, voice devoid of any emotion. “They already are. But I agree, scaling down would be a good idea. Have just a few volunteers help. And the others go about the remainder of the work – which seems to have randomly increased within the last 24 hours.” Screw the Board of Directors. Despite the internal agreement to focus solely on one assignment, they had failed to inform the other departments. Thus, other assignments had come in without any of the three men knowing. And now they suddenly had released that flood upon them – likely as revenge for Regis flipping them off verbally the other day. “Perhaps that is the best course of action. A smaller team can protect itself better than a whole unit.” Clarus grew more annoyed while speaking. “Gladio and Ignis will remain with Noctis and Iris until this whole thing is over. I don’t care how long it takes. This psycho is going down. And Cor is coming home.” “And what if he refuses? “He won’t have any say in that!” “Then you aren’t any better than that other guy.” “Do not compare me to him!” Clarus was in battle-mode now, his voice louder than usual, but the Captain was not impressed. “You are making it sound like he has no choice. Of course, I will compare you both. Because he didn’t give your ‘brother’ any choice either. You’re a profiler, Amicitia. What do you think will he do if you do the same as the other man? He will fight, because it will only strengthen the argument that you’re a threat to him.” Clarus opened his mouth to retort, but after a moment of silence he shut himself up and sat back down into his chair. Deflating, he asked, “What do you propose then? Ask him out for coffee and tea, or what?” Drautos shrugged. “During my time in the military we used to have similar cases. We would lock them up, talk to them on a daily basis, trying to rationalize…” “Oh yeah, that sounds so much better. And how about a nice round of beating, just to make sure…” Clearing his throat loudly, Regis interrupted his two friends. “Gentlemen, please. Fighting won’t help us. As much as I’d love to just find Cor and drag him out of wherever he’s currently hiding, I think you are right. If we make the decision for him, we won’t be better than the other man, losing any possible leverage we have.” A knock on the door stopped their conversation completely. “Come in.” The door opened and the head of Crowe Altius popped in. “Captain... we heard shouting. Everything alright?” “Yes, dear. Don’t worry.” Regis smiled. “But we do worry. I mean, Boss, we’re not stupid, you know. We kinda see that there is something going on that involves you…” Trailing off, Crowe turned a little red, squeaking a quick apology and then shutting the door again; knowing that she had spoken out of tune. “I really like the people you have recruited since you joined Titus. They are sharp and speak their mind.” The other man just shrugged. “And give me a hell of a headache.” “If they didn’t, then we would.” The small smile on Regis’ face told him he was sincere. And he liked to believe it. “Let’s get out of here, fellas. We have a job to do. I want the psycho-mentor taken down, Cor returned home and the team informed about everything in between.” Oh, Regis was on a roll now. That would certainly be interesting. The men got up. Following their boss, Regis walked out the room over to where the whole unit worked. It had been quiet all day long, everyone waiting for the next orders. And it was evident that they would receive them now. 

“Ladies and gentlemen.” Regis started, “We know, the past few weeks have been nothing but unpleasant and strenuous. And to make matters worse, it seems we have caught the attention of the Immortal’s mentor. We have come to the decision that – to not endanger the lives of the whole department – we will be taking on other cases as well. Downsizing so to speak. The three of us will continue working on this case. And, if some of you are brave enough, we would appreciate a helping hand or two. But I want you to understand that… from this point forward, it will be a tough ride. And I’m not sure that we can guarantee your safety. So, if you want to be re-assigned, then do tell us. We will not hold it against you. Perhaps it’ll be for the best…” Regis trailed off. Clarus supporting him on one side, so he did not waver too strongly. The three men were listening to the quiet murmurs rippling through the department. Drautos rolled his eyes. “Children…” he whispered only for his two friends to hear it. “Alright, listen up.” he bellowed, “Anyone interested in re-assignment will raise their hand, now.” The first hands came up hesitantly, but then more and more joined in. The Captain looked over the hands. When his gaze landed on Ulric’s team, he frowned. “You going deaf, Ulric, or is your hand too heavy?” The younger man just shrugged, that trademark innocent smile on his lips. Drautos knew that look – it was the recipe for disaster… in three… two… one: “With all due respect Captain. I call bullshit.” Sometimes, he hated how well he knew those guys. “We can’t let you do this on your own. This is stupid. You told us yourself how dangerous this guy is, and yet you want to go up against him and his mentor? I mean, no offence Boss and… Boss, but out of the three of you, my money is on the Captain, and even then, I am worried. Long story short, I think you might need back-up.” Clarus and Regis just shook their heads – at this point, none of them knew if Nyx Ulric was really brave or just downright crazy. “Sounds more like you hit your head on your desk one too many times. You think playing hero will get you anywhere?” And there was Lazarus’ unnecessary comment. “Just run along little pup.” Of course, Furia had to add his useless two cents. Taking a deep breath, the Captain waited for one more second before he focussed on those two idiots. “Lazarus. Furia. I am assigning you for canteen and mail duty until I decide otherwise.” Both men’s heads snapped around, disbelieve covering their features. “But you said no repercussions sir.” “This is not about you choosing to be re-assigned. It’s about you two being dumb shits when I have zero patience for it.” Then, he turned back to Ulric. “Get your team ready in 30. We’ll continue talking in the meeting room. Elshett, there is a mountain of files on my desk that are waiting for assignments. They are all yours. Dismissed.” 

30 minutes later, the three men were sitting together with Ulric, Altius, Ostium and Khara in the conference room. Regis was smiling warmly, Clarus’ face was neutral and Drautos was wearing his usual ‘talk to me and die’ look. “Miss Altius already made clear that you know that something is… how shall I put it… off?” Regis started. “And she’s right. There is something we didn’t tell you about the Immortal.” At that, eight ears perked up, curiosity written across the owners faces. Regis took the picture frame and turned it around. Showing Clarus and himself with three other young men. It was the picture everyone knew he had in his office on his desk. It was the same Clarus carried around in his wallet all the time. “Sir…?” The four friends shared a quick glance before focussing on the picture again. Regis tapped onto the thin glass, indicating the young boy with a scowl on his face. His eyes as blue as the ocean. “This is… Cor Leonis. Clarus’ and my little brother. We have reason to believe that he is the Immortal.” A moment of silence. “Fuck.” the quartet breathed in unison… 

He just had finished cleaning his rifle when Gilgamesh walked into his room, a plate of food in each hand. He hummed appreciative and took the plate. “I will leave in two hours.” “Good.” Finishing his food in record time, he put the plate down and focussed on his rifle again, loading it with one bullet and then sliding it into the new drag bag he had bought the other day. “You bought a bag for fishing gear?” “It’s made of the same fabric as my old one, has enough space, is less bulky and doesn’t attract unwanted attention.” Gilgamesh gave a small nod. “You won’t need your rifle for this.” At that, the younger man looked up, his frown demanding an explanation. “I want you to work on your close combat skills, no weapons.” “Yes, sir.” He put his rifle back onto the bed and got up, unfastening the combat knife that was strapped to his right thigh. Then he walked over to his desk, picking up an empty bulled cartridge that still needed filling. Making their own ammunition had its advantages, the most crucial one being that there were no leads that could be exploited and traced back to them. “Be quick, be clean, be efficient.” Gilgamesh said, before he took the other’s plate and left the room; leaving the younger man to finish preparing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.


	9. Profiling and other work-related matters

Of course, another body dropped. This time it was Camelia Claustra. A well-liked high-ranked politician. The body had been found by the cleaner the next day in her winter residence over in Norfolk, Nebraska. In fact, the poor lady had found her and her bodyguards. Rather than cleaning up that mess, she had simply called the police and insisted to pick up the slack. It had not been a pleasant sight. When Drautos and the others arrived, the local force had already started bagging up the bodies and any personal items they carried at them at the time of death. Naturally, the expected bullet cartridge was also available to add to their ever-growing collection. Looking at the pictures taken, Ostium and Khara had already started re-creating the fight that had taken place. Altius and Ulric were tracing back the path the Immortal had taken from where he had killed his targets to whence he had entered the mansion. The Captain was currently on the phone with Regis and Clarus. Both men had taken the private jet to Miami after it turned out that Claustra had been the one signing the deal for Aldercapt. Well, if that was not something! The tall man watched Altius and Ulric return and raised an eyebrow. Ulric gave him a thumbs-up and he nodded. “Thanks for the info. I will update you once we know more. We’ll stay for another day.” With that, he hung up. He turned towards his team and put the phone away. “Let’s hear it.” 

“The guy came through the door, literally just walked in on Claustra and her hired muscle. They were just recently hired, finishing the last meeting before they would start their shift.” Ostium started while Khara stepped over the threshold into the room. “The guards see him enter the room; one was standing next to the door. He had no chance whatsoever: was the first to drop.” Khara made a move to grab at his invisible opponent, then turned and brought his hands up before he twisted them. “He grabbed the guy, spun around and snapped his neck.” Ostium walked over from where he was standing. “The second guy rushes over…” Khara moved in front of his friend and colleague. “… and received a kick against his knee, falling down. A knee to the face followed, breaking his nose before he got his neck snapped too.” Quickly acting the scene out, Khara moved into the middle of the room. “The target is moving away into the far corner, Crowe, if you don’t mind. Thank you.” “The other guards are rounding him up, attacking, likely all at once.” Ostium, together with Ulric ganged up on their friend and performed a mock-attack. “The Immortal blocks and counters breaking one arm and smashes the other’s face into the wall over here.” Ostium glued himself onto the wall before sagging down, Ulric was clutching his ‘broken’ arm. “You are not down, though. You try to fight. Since he is facing you with his back, he tornado-kicks you and you kiss the floor. Now, the other guy gets up and tries to grab him. Doesn’t work; elbow to the liver. He puts the head into a deadlock and ‘crack’.” Ostium faked his death. Then, rather than advancing onto Ulric, Khara turned on his heel and walked towards the door, signing to his friend to move as well. “Claustra is desperate, and attempts to try and get away. She’s running for the door, but he catches her, grabs her and…” He moved behind his colleague, snaked an arm around her head. “Reverse dead-lock kill. Pow.” Altius let herself fall to the ground and Khara turned around again. “That only leaves the bodyguard with the broken arm. That one is scared, steps back. Trying to… perhaps reason or negotiate? It doesn’t work. He raises his good hand to shield himself.” Following the instructions, Ulric sat himself down, raising his left hand. “He doesn’t care… the man crawls backwards until he remembers that he actually has a gun strapped to his belt. He pulls it out… shoots, misses, and then the Immortal strikes.” Khara stopped, making a funny face, before he realized he had missed something. “Yes, and there is this other guy over there.” He pointed towards Drautos. “For some reason, this guy didn’t join the fight. Only when all this here was over… then, he advanced.” “What makes you think that?” “Papers and some of the cushions lay on top of the other men.” Ostium answered, moving over to Khara. “This guy was of bigger built, more like you, Captain. He very likely waited for the younger ones to get beaten up first. A good fighter knows to watch and observe his opponent first before attacking. That’s what he was doing. He knew this fight was a lost cause since he didn’t even try to protect Claustra when she ran. Ironically, I think, if she had waited, she might have gotten that second to escape.” Khara nodded in agreement. “This man… he got his arm dislocated, his femur broken – and I just want to make sure to say that is a fucking difficult thing to accomplish – and despite all that, he did not break through the other guy’s guard but got a kick to the side of his neck that snapped right through it. The fuck… if there is a ‘Terminator’ then this guy is it. Ow... oi!” Khara smiled sheepishly when Altius swatted him to his head, shaking her head disapprovingly. 

The quartet waited for Drautos to comment but the man just quietly moved his gaze across the room; going over everything once more in his head. After a moment, he nodded. “Ulric, Altius: you’re up next.” “Alrighty. Then follow us, fellas.” Ulric showed them to the door. “There was only one additional man out here, at the end of the hallway, actually.” He jogged down and leaned against the wall pretending to be holding a book. Altius darted around him, hiding behind the corner. Then, she moved her hand and placed it onto her partner’s mouth. “He grabbed hold so he couldn’t alarm the others, banged his head into the wall.” She emerged from the corner, kneed Ulric into the guts, changed stance and then kneed him into the back. “Then, he broke this man’s neck as well.” she stated matter-of-factly. Next, she focussed on the stairs, beckoning the others to follow. “He walked up the stairs, the alarm of the front door not going off because he ripped out the wiring. We found the small box hidden outside on the western wall.” The small group walked across the greeting hall, then out of the building, turning right. “He came over the stone wall over there, using a blind spot of the camera there. On the opposite of this wall we only have woodlands nothing else, this place is more or less secluded. The next house is a few miles down the road.” “Our educated guess is that he is riding a bike. A car would be too loud, and bikes can be very quiet if tuned correctly, despite the horsepower.” Again, the Captain remained quiet, the lines in his face darkening. Looking back toward the house, he glared a few daggers at it. Then, finally: “Good work. Get lunch. I want you back at the hotel in 2 hours.” With that, Drautos marched off, leaving four thrown-off agents behind. “Did he just say ‘good work’?” “I think so…” “Cool.” “Hah, take that Lazarus!” “I can still hear you…” their Captain’s voice bellowed. The quartet shut up immediately, waiting for the man to be out of earshot before they started giggling like little schoolgirls. “Children, all of them...” the man said gruffly, not bothering to quench the feeling of pride, though. 

Despite telling his team to go get food, Drautos did not do the same. After the clean-up teams had left, he had spent another hour on the premises – looking, searching for something he did not know what it actually was – he felt like he was missing something. Listening to his gut feeling, he returned to the lounge, working his way backwards through what had happened until he stood, again, in front of the wall the hitman had climbed over. With ease, he climbed over it, landing gracefully on the other side. Crouching down, he started looking for tracks. It took him a while to find them. Evidently, the other man knew how to cover them. The Captain smiled. If there was one thing, he truly excelled in, then it was tracking and he just had found them. The man followed the trace until it led him to the road. Dead-end. “So much for that...” he exhaled softly. Of course, the Immortal would not be that stupid to leave any traces of abrasion behind, he surely adhered to the speed limit. That made the man smile grimly: imagining a deadly hitman getting stuck in rush-hour. That would be a sight to behold, surely. Focussing back on the task at hand, Drautos frowned. This did not sit right with him. A vacated vehicle in the middle of the night drew attention. His gut feeling still told him that something was amiss. “Maybe...” he whispered under his breath and crossed the street, starting to look for the same tracks again. Fucking, yes! A small smirk worked its way onto his lips when he found what he was looking for. “Not a bad idea, crossing through the woods on foot.” It took him another hour before he found the campfire. Pulling out his phone, Drautos speed-dialled Ulric’s number, just to get a ‘no reception’ notification pop up. With an exasperated sigh, he put his phone back into his pocket. “Naturally...” And with that, he started working... 

He had returned to their current residence 56 hours later. Gilgamesh was not around when he arrived, so he strode straight back into his room, ridding himself of his clothes and jumping right into the shower. He was not a fan of the cold; he could endure it, but that did not mean he had to like it. Especially if he had to stay outside without any camping equipment. Turning the faucet to ‘hot’ he closed his eyes, waiting for his body to warm up again. When he started to feel his senses returning, he turned the tap back to a less scalding temperature. Today had been interesting to say the least. On his way back, he had to stop for gas. As luck wanted to have it, it had been the same gas station those agents had stopped at. He had recognized them from the public conference at which he had shot Mors Lucis Caelum. Except for one, the guy with the scars on his face. He had not even looked like the rest of that group. The way the man had moved and acted was more military than police. Experienced. Whereas the others had immediately rushed into the station shop, the man had checked for any exits, security cameras and counted all folk present, him included. The other man’s gaze had lingered for a second, but then moved on and he had revved his bike’s engine, leaving to get back. He opened his eyes, the blue of his irises shining. He recognized threats when he saw them, and that man had his alarms go off. It was his luck that he had kept his helmet on, hiding conveniently behind the black vizor. Gilgamesh was right, they needed to finish their work here. Needed to kill those men: the other Caelum, that Amicitia guy and that third man just for good measure. They would not stop otherwise. 

Finally clean and all warmed up again, he stepped out of the shower, towelling down and returning to his room. He was hungry. Pulling on some shorts, he headed towards the kitchen. Walking in, he grabbed an empty glass from the sink and filled it with tap water. Then, he strode over to the fridge, looking inside. His eyes found a whole-wheat baguette, ready for serving, a small note with the word ‘eat’ on top of it. He smiled. The old man always seemed so tough around the edges, demanding and strict as hell, but sometimes... sometimes he was like this. He grabbed one half of the baguette and bit into it, a small groan escaping him. He had ignored his need for food over the past hours, but now, that he finally got something to eat, he realized how much he had needed this. When he heard the door, he stuffed the rest of the baguette into his mouth and made his way to the small lobby. Gilgamesh threw him a disapproving look. “Put some clothes on boy, we have work to do.” “They sent agents after me. Didn’t heed your warning.” “I am aware.” the older man replied calmly. “Let me take care of this, then. I won’t fail you again.” “I know you won’t. Take 10, then we start planning.” “Yes, sir.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after 1.5 hours of constant rowing-training on medium-high level, my arms hurt... but not my fingers, hehehe. Enjoy!


	10. Pivotal

Another couple of days had gone by before the small group of Glaives had reconvened at their headquarters. Regis and Clarus had updated the others on Camelia Claustra’s connection to Aldercapt. She had been the one signing all the papers necessary to drop the charges and put him into witness protection. The two men had also found out about some rumours circulating, even found some solid evidence that there was a grain of truth in it; apparently, Claustra was not the nice woman she appeared to be. She had a regular monetary income from an unknown source, paying quite a nice sum to her already too-high salary. With a little more digging, they found another name tied to the woman and Aldercapt. It was Ulldor’s name. Not yet certain about what a criminal, a politician and a military general had in common, they decided to investigate further into Ulldor’s life. It was the only road they could potentially follow, seeing that Aldercapt had lost his position in the syndicate and Claustra being too high-ranked for them to get anyone talking, let alone telling the truth. 

Once the two men were done, Ulric provided a short summary of the events that had occurred at Claustra’s residence. Then, Drautos had had finished by telling them about the tracks and the campfire, earning confused looks from his youngsters. Khara asked disbelieving, “You mean he camped out there? In the friggin’ cold, without gear? Is that even humanly possible?” The Captain just shrugged. “It’s not uncommon for Special Ops, so why should he not be able to do the same?” “You know, Captain. One day you have to tell us what you actually did in the military. Because some of that stuff sounds like it comes straight out of a Hollywood movie. And I ain’t sure that’s a good thing.” Ulric said, making a funny face when the tall man just shrugged again, smirking in a way that told the younger one that he would never receive an answer to these questions. Clarus and Regis sniggered at that, but shut up and pretended to focus on the papers in front of them, when their friend threw them a sharp glare. When Clarus looked at his watch, he said, with faked surprise, “Oh my, look at the time. It’s already six.” Ignoring his friend’s glare, Clarus stood up and stretched. “Let’s order something before we get back to this clusterfuck of shit we have gotten ourselves assigned to.” “As eloquent as always, old friend.” Regis smiled and got up as well. “But I concur, let’s just...” _Let it go, let it go. Can’t hold it back anymore. Let it go, let it go. Turn away and slam the door._ “Noctis, son, how nice of you to call. What is it?” he asked cheerfully, ignoring the looks of shock and disbelieve literally everyone in the room was throwing at him. “And he says my ring tone sucks?!” Clarus said, still gaping and trying to process what just happened. Drautos shook his head and made for the door. “Can you get us another bottle of water – or two – while you’re at it?!” Clarus hollered after him. 

An hour and a half later, the group had ventured to the canteen. They had not ordered take-away after all, rather than that, Noctis had suggested they came over to bring food – Ignis had offered to cook. First, Regis wanted to refuse, but looking at the younger agents’ pleading faces he had caved – nobody would turn down food Ignis cooked. So, he agreed to Noctis and his friends coming over to have ‘dinner together’ but that was it. And no snooping around for information he knew the young men were after. So, here they were, enjoying a delicious and healthy dinner. Drautos had joined them a little later. He had insisted to walk his round first to see if anyone was still on the premises. When he returned, he joined the others at the table. “Everyone else has left. I locked up the place, so don’t open the windows, otherwise you’ll set off the alarm.” he said, looking at the kids first, then at Ulric, who just returned his glare with another one of his trademark smiles. “Sometimes, Ulric, I itch to punch that smile off your face – you know that, right?” “Of course, I do, Captain. But I'm not into blood-play, so you might wanna look for someone else.” the younger man replied with a wink. At that, not just their Captain but also Altius, Khara, Clarus, Noctis and Prompto chocked on their drinks. While the coughing fit rippled through the attendees, Drautos had forced himself back to control, before he would truly hurt the younger man. “That’s not what...” Before he could finish his sentence, the lights went out. Silence reigned over the group, a high-pitched yelp could be heard, then, “Dude, that was my foot.” “That wasn’t me.” “Oh yeah?” “Argentum, Caelum junior – shut it.” Drautos interrupted the younger men’s bickering, furrowing his brows. A minute later, the emergency power kicked in, a dim light flickered back to life. “That’s odd, electrics was tested just the other day, wasn’t it? Power outage maybe?” Ostium whispered meekly. What were the odds for a power outage now? Looking outside the windows, the Captain narrowed his eyes. “Ulric.” he whispered, his tone not accepting any argument. “Box formation. Now – move into diamond once we’ve reached the lobby! Amicitia, Scientia, remain with the boys. Regis, Clarus – with me!” Not daring to argue, everyone did as they were told, despite the slightly confused looks everyone sported. “On me!” With that, Drautos unsheathed his combat knife and started leading the group out of the canteen. Behind him, Clarus whispered quietly a “What’s going on Titus?” but the other man simply signalled him to look outside the windows. A moment later he could hear a knife being pulled out of it sheath. Walking down the narrow hallway, the tall man focussed on his hearing; the dim light not being all too helpful at the moment. A fleeting thought crossed his mind as to how easy it was for him to move back into old habits, but he did not have time to resent that. Focussing again, he continued his advance. At the end of the hall, he waited for the others to catch up. Using sign language, he signalled what he wanted Ulric to do and the other man nodded in understanding. He looked as his two friends. “Do whatever you must. You can worry about it later. But do not hesitate.” he whispered, voice stern, and then, he kicked the door open, walking into the lobby. He stopped only mere feet away from the two men that were evidently waiting for them to come this way. “You have refused to listen. Now you must pay for your insolence.” one of the men said. Drautos remained quiet. Talking would not help them right now. They needed to come up with a good plan now, otherwise they would be screwed. “Cor...?” That was Regis, unable to control his shaky voice. Taking a few steps forward, the older man stood now next to the Captain. “Do you... know who I am?” “Regis!” he snapped, but before he could say anything else, the man – the mentor – nodded at his companion. The smooth, emotionless voice cut through the tension like a sword through flesh. “You are Regis Lucis Caelum, my target.” Without any hesitation, the man darted forwards. It took Drautos a second before he saw the not-so-small blade, reflecting the light. Years of experience made his body move before his brain gave the signal and he stepped between Regis and the Immortal, blocking the first strike with his own combat knife. 

That was the moment all hell broke loose. The Captain engaged into a wild fight with the Immortal, whereas the older hitman attacked Regis. Luckily, Clarus was by his side, pushing him out of the way before taking on the other man. However, he fell back quickly under the assault the mentor was exerting. Regis spun around, wits back in place, joining his long-time friend’s side. At once, they were side-by-side, getting into stance; ready for whatever the other man would throw at them. 

Nyx and the others waited behind the door, watching the scene unfold. “Nyx, there is no way we’ll get by without being noticed.” “I know, mate. But we don’t have much of a choice here. We need to get those two outta here.” “But what about our dads?” The man’s gaze darkened. He knew what Noctis meant. Both of their bosses were not doing well against the older hitman. And it looked like their Captain had his hands full with the Immortal. “I know that look, Nyx...” Pelna said with a smirk. Nyx just shrugged. “Maybe we could...” He started with a snort, a small smile creeping onto his features. 

The Immortal blocked another strike and countered swiftly, just to be blocked in return. Unlike himself, though, Drautos was forced to fall back more often than not; losing ground. The relentless and precise strikes the other man executed were well timed and fast. He barely telegraphed his movements, making it more difficult to anticipate them. But that was what got him going and Drautos realized, that he was itching for this fight. Automatically parrying the Immortal’s blade, he used his hight and built to his advantage. Both men locked blades, pressing against each other shoulder-to-shoulder. “You know...” the Captain grunted. “... Regis and Clarus would like to have a talk with you. But you aren’t making this easy.” “I came to kill them. Not to talk.” Both men stepped back, then, went in for another attack. Drautos took another swipe, was blocked and got a knee to his gut. Breathing out, he took the hit, seizing the opportunity to grab hold of the other man’s thigh and sweeping for his leg. Before the other man hit the ground, though, his free leg came up and pulled the other man down with him. Flexibility points for the Immortal. Drautos landed on him and both men were forced to exhale. He reacted first, aiming for the Immortal’s weapon, forcing it out of the other’s hand and pushing his own blade down onto his throat. He did not get too far, though, as the hitman’s legs locked together right under his ribs and started crushing them. “Fuck...” Drautos had to let up – what did this guy do on leg day?! With a quick flip, the man underneath him was suddenly on top. Faintly, he could feel that familiar sense of excitement wash through him that he always felt when engaging in a fight. Blocking the assault of punches that rained down on him, he tried to grab the other’s arms. When that did not work, he pushed his hips up and the Immortal fell forward over, rolling off. At once, both men were back in a low stance, glaring at each other. Drautos watched the other intently; the man did not look too fazed, his breathing less laboured than his own. He needed to come up with a plan to end this. As much as he felt in his element right now, he knew the other was at an advantage. “Are you really willing to kill your brothers in cold blood?” “I have no brothers, only targets.” Again, the response came swiftly and that did not sit right with the man. “Is this what you think or what he thinks?” Something flashed across the Immortal’s face before he snarled and attacked again. It happened so fast, Drautos did not see it coming, just felt the kick connect. He had blocked the low-kick but realized too late that the other man had telegraphed his movements on purpose, just to mask his actual attack: a very painful high-kick to his head. Landing on all fours, he tried to stop his head from spinning, unaware that the other man had picked up the blade and was stepping closer. 

Before anything could happen, though, the door to the hall opened with a loud 'bang’ and the remaining agents rushed through – armed with pots and pans? “Anyone who beats up our Bosses gets to deal with us, you fuckers. Yehaaa...” Ulric hollered, throwing a sponge at the man towering over Clarus, who was currently trying to pull the blade out of his shoulder. Both hitmen stopped and looked at the group of youngsters – a little fazed. It did not happen every day that someone threw pots at them, after all. When the black-haired man threw a pot at his mentor, the man evaded it with ease, but the next came flying right after and he was forced to step away from Clarus. “Guys, let’s show them what it means to deal with the Glaives.” With that, the group split up, Ostium, Khara and Scientia heading straight for the Immortal, while Ulric, Altius and the younger Amicitia continued throwing everything they got at the other man. Noctis and Prompto stood behind them, supplying them with more items. It would have been a funny sight to behold, had it not been for the dire situation they were currently in. “Captain, you alright?” Khara’s voice pulled him back into focus. “Yeah... what are you doing?” “Oh, you know, saving your arses. It was Nyx’s idea, by the way.” “Of course...” Before he could say anything else, he could hear Ostium yelp and then he saw how Scientia was picked up and thrown into Khara. As much as he would have liked to scald the youngsters, their plan did seem to work. The Immortal was starting to breathe harder, now. Glancing over quickly, he could see that the other hitman was also a little overwhelmed. Unlike humans, pots did not feel any pain when being hit. Focussing back at his opponent, Drautos got into stance. The other three men took point. “Let’s try this again, shall we?” he growled, received a feral snarl from the other man and then they engaged again. 

Due the combined assault of Khara’s fast jabs, Scientia’s quick kicks and Ostium’s and Drautos’ full body attacks, the Immortal was starting to lose ground. However, that did not last too long. Eventually, the man adapted to being outnumbered: he started moving around more, always keeping one of the younger men in front of him, so the others had more difficulty landing their hits on him, rather than their team mate. Eventually, he landed a perfectly executed kick onto Ostium’s knee and Drautos winced when he could hear a ‘snap’ followed by the man’s painful scream. Next was Khara, receiving a knee right into his liver, dropping like a dead weight. When the man blocked one of Scientia’s jump kicks with a teep, the Captain saw an opening and took it without thinking. If he had, he would have known it would end badly. He rugby-tackled the Immortal right through the glass window, setting off the alarm. “Why did nobody think about that,” was the last thought that crossed his mind before both men landed on the frozen ground, and everything went black. 

The older hitman heard it more than saw it happen. Busy fending off the onslaught the younger Amicitia forced upon him, he was unable to react when the boy was thrown out of the window. Furious, he lashed out at the young man, cutting him across his forehead. “You will regret this.” “No, you will. For stealing away uncle Cor. And for killing Jared. And for hurting my friends!” Gladiolus forced himself through the other man’s guard pushing him back, but only for a moment. Now that they had run out of items to throw, they had engaged into proper combat. Nyx and Altius kept covering him from the sides, while Gladiolus performed all heavy attacks. They were not fast enough, though. The older hitman grabbed hold of Crowe forced the blade into her gut and then threw her weak body against Nyx who caught her, but was unable to block the man’s attack, knocking him down and out at once. "Who do you think you are, asshole?” Gladiolus almost screamed at his opponent, lashing out without hitting anything. “They call me Gilgamesh. I am the judge of those who believe to be strong, and the executioner of the weak.” Gladiolus picked up a pot and threw it at the man. “Don’t give me your fuckin’ bio. Just die already!” Gilgamesh evaded another strike before he push-kicked the younger man onto the ground. Stepping over him, he raised his blade when a small pot suddenly hit him against the head, the mask he was wearing the only thing protecting him from any serious damage. Tumbling backwards, he looked into the direction where the damn thing had come from and saw the blonde boy standing in stance, shivering, his hand still extended; proof that he had thrown the pot. “You...” He took a step forward but then halted. He turned towards the broken window, then took a step back. “Enjoy the reunion, I will come back for him.” Then, Gilgamesh turned on his heel and left. A few seconds later, the others could hear the wailing of sirens... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, nobody proof-read this, so I'll go down with my typos. Otherwise, let the fun begin... enjoy.


	11. A somewhat bumpy reunion

He woke with a splitting headache. His hand automatically moved to clutch his head, rubbing slightly over the bandage. Wait... bandage? Without opening his eyes, he sat up straight and almost fell over again from the vertigo that caught him. “What...?” “Ah, you’re finally awake. That’s good. I was worried a little, you know.” The voice that spoke was soft, kind. The Immortal forced his eyes open but had to shut them again as the light blinded him. A moment later he tried again, slower. When his surroundings came into view, he realized that it was not his room. “How are you feeling... Cor?” He let his gaze wander across the items in the small room: a built-in toilet, a sink with a toothbrush and toothpaste, a small mirror and a small plastic desk which sported a bottle of water, two Tupperware boxes and a sheet of paper. At last, he let his gaze fall onto the man who sat on a chair behind a glass wall. No, that was wrong. He was the one behind it, the other man – his target – was in front of it. He tried to process the other man’s question, but failed. “You and Drautos fell out of the window. Well... he body-slammed you through it, actually. Both of you fell two floors before you hit the ground. Do you remember?” No, the last thing he could recall was… actually, yes. Now that he focussed, he remembered. That man – Drautos – had tackled him when he had opened his guard. He sighed. Great, now he was a prisoner. Gilgamesh was going to have his hide for this slip-up, that was for sure. “Cor?” “Stop calling me that.” he snapped, all those questions just making his headache worse. “That is not my name.” he added a little calmer. The man on the other side of the divider smiled sadly. “But it is. Your name is Cor Leonis. And my name is...” “Regis Lucis Caelum. I am aware. What do you want?” he interrupted. The headache was killing him and he would have preferred to just lay back and wait for it to pass, but no, his target had to keep talking. On that note, he should not have asked the other one a question. That just resulted in more words he could not care any less about right now. With another exasperated sigh, he let himself fall backwards again, plopping onto the pillow, closing his eyes again, tuning out his surroundings. Or at least, tried to. He could feel the other man’s eyes on him, who had the decency to remain quiet at least. He felt like an animal in the zoo, nice. 

He could hear a door open and slightly uneven steps coming towards them. “How is he?” “Grumpy. How is Titus?” “Already running about again, coming up with a cover for him.” A moment of silence. “He is awake, but refuses to talk.” “Ah...” The second man sighed. “Regis, I am not sure this was a wise decision.” “And what else would you have me do? Turn him in?” Well... that was something he definitely knew the answer for. And it did not appear that he would get the desired quiet-time he craved as long as these guys were trying to pull some information out of him. So, he did the next best thing. “You should have killed me.” he said, without opening his eyes. “Cor, no, we won’t kill you! Why would you even think that?” Regis sounded a little concerned. “Because that’s what he’ll do when I get out.” At this, the other man – Clarus, he needed to remind himself – interjected. “Gilgamesh won’t lay a finger on you. Not if we have a say in that!” At that, the man in the cell barked out a lough. What a joke...! “Cor...” A loud crashing noise could be heard and then someone was swearing before a second voice joined the first. The door flew open and two more men entered wherever he was, arguing. “... I don’t care. It’s his fault she’s dead.” “C’mon Lib, calm down, man. Please...” Opening one eye lazily, the two men appeared in his field of vision and he recognized them. It was the crazy one and his friend. Dammit, he was already missing his room. And the silence. The chubbier man hit his fist against the glass, one crutch falling to the ground. His voice was laced with anger when he yelled at him. “You asshole... are you feeling proud of yourself? Are you feeling good that you killed Crowe? Our little sister?! Hey asshole, I’m talking to you. Fucker!” “Ostium, enough.” a voice thundered and the Immortal tensed. That man... 

Headache forgotten, the Immortal threw his legs off the bed just in time to see the man appear in front of the glass. “Ulric, get him out of here. I don’t wanna see him for the next two days. In fact, I don’t wanna see any of you. Now go!” Blue eyes followed the man called ‘Ulric’ until he and his sobbing mess of a friend – Ostium – disappeared out of sight. Then, his eyes fell onto the man, giving him a quick once over. To be fair, the man looked just like he felt: shit. For a moment, neither man said anything, just looking at the other, assessing, analysing. Without looking away, Drautos addressed his friends, asking, “He say anything?” “Not much. He’s not very talkative.” Regis replied. It seemed that, for some reason, the man was concerned about him – why? They had not cared when they almost killed him back then, why now? What did they try to achieve? Did they really believe that he would fall for whatever they were planning? If so, then these three were just as naïve as the rest of them. He forced himself to break the eye contact, giving the man one last deadly glare for good measure. Then, he let himself fall back once again, staring at the ceiling of his temporary confines. “Chatty.” “And as prickly as he used to be. If not even more...” Regis added. “It will take time, Regis.” “Yes... time. Which we don't have too much of.” “No. But it is all you’ve got. You better give it your all! Let’s go.” Regis stood, pulling the chair towards the wall. Before he left, he turned towards the younger man in the cell. “There is food in the boxes for when you get hungry. I’m truly sorry to have to keep you locked up like this. But we both know you would leave if you had the chance. And I...” Regis breathed in and exhaled slowly. “... I can’t let you go back to him. Not until you know who you are. I’ll come by tomorrow again, to see if you need anything. Or, if you want to talk...” With a small smile on his lips, he bid himself goodbye, leaving the Immortal, for the first time since he was put into this cell, truly alone. 

He had woken up early – or at least that was what his inner clock had signalled him. Without another thought, he had started on his daily routine, but realized quickly, that his body would still need further rest before he could do any more than simple push-ups. Displeased with that development, he started inspecting the items Regis had left in his cell. When he found the food the other man had mentioned, he had not wasted a thought before tearing into it. He needed to keep his strength for when he got out of here. Gilgamesh would give him the beating of his life for fucking up so badly. But he would worry about that later. First, he needed to figure out how to get out of here and, second, what these people really wanted – it was evident to him that he could not give them what they were looking for: Cor Leonis. Nevertheless, once he was fed and had clean teeth, he grabbed the paper, sitting down on the cold ground in seiza, and started reading. 

When Regis came by to check in on him, he found the younger man on the floor, meditating, eyes closed. The paper with his details next to him. “Good morning, Cor. How are you feeling today? Did you eat? I brought you some more water and breakfast.” When the man did not reply, Regis put the items into the trade-box so he could take them out on his side later, then left again, promising to visit in a couple of hours. The second time Regis came by, he was accompanied by Clarus. Checking the trade-box, they found that he had swapped the empty food boxes with the full ones from earlier this morning. Happy to see that their little brother was at least eating and drinking, Regis made another attempt for conversation. Again, for naught. The third time the door opened, it was not the slow feather-light steps from Regis he could hear. No, the steps were certain, strong. Without a word, Drautos checked the trade-box and then left again. The same process repeated itself two more times. Once he was sure nobody would come by anytime soon, he opened his eyes and got up slowly. If he was not mistaken, it should have been evening now. Shaking his legs off, the Immortal stretched. He already felt better than in the morning, so he tried again to see how far he got in his routine. It hurt, but he could manage and that is what he did. He would persevere. He always did. 

On the second day, Regis found him in the same position when he visited. “Good morning, Cor.” “Why do you keep calling me that?” Not expecting an answer while rummaging around, Regis yelped pathetically. The voice that cut through the silence was smooth, detached and cold; without any emotion or intonation whatsoever. “Damn, you trying to give me a heart attack?” Grabbing his chest, breathing heavily, Regis looked at him, using his best pouty-face he had. After a moment, he sighed and said, “Why would I not call you that? It’s your name.” Icy blue eyes followed him around as he picked up the scattered items. “I don’t have a name.” “Oh, and what’s ‘the Immortal’ then?” “A moniker given to me by a dead man. Falsely using it to address Gilgamesh with it.” Regis nodded. “What does he call you – this Gilgamesh?” “Boy.” Regis eyebrows shot upwards and his lips formed a silent ‘oh’. Apparently, he needed a better tactic. Regis pulled the chair towards the glass and sat down. “Well... that does not alter the fact that your name given to you when you were born is Cor Leonis.” “Then, that person died a long time ago – when you left him behind to save yourselves.” Ready. Aim. Strike. “That is not what happened. He ripped you apart and then took you with him.” Kill. “And you didn’t stop him.” Silence. Regis did not know what to say. “I... we didn’t know you were still alive. Weskham and Cid needed medical attention. We...” he forced himself to stop. Closing his eyes for a moment, grounding himself. When Regis opened his eyes again, he looked at Cor with remorse. “I am sorry if this is what you believe. It’s not what happened. We had two friends down, one – you – we thought dead. We didn’t know what to do. But at this point, you probably believe Gilgamesh more than me.” The response to that came without any hesitation, “Yes.” Regis dropped his gaze to the ground. “You should go.” And so, Regis did. 

Unlike the day before, the man – Regis – did not return to check in. It was always Drautos who brought him food and water. They did not exchange words. The third day was the same: no Regis, no Clarus. Only Drautos. On day number four – Saturday, if he was correct – the tall man showed up while he was training. He had not expected to see anyone for the two days; who would want to go to work on their weekend, right? But there the man was anyway, sporting black jeans, a grey shirt and a dark red leather jacket. Standing up, the Immortal stepped closer towards the glass divider, locking eyes with the other man, waiting. “You look like you could use a shower. If you behave, you can have one.” Drautos said. “Behave?” “Just don’t try to run or anything. I can imagine myself doing better things than cleaning up blood.” The man's eyebrow twitched at that, but otherwise he maintained his stoic expression, evidently going through his options. “Let me shave, and I’ll... ‘behave’.” “Deal.” Without a second of hesitation, the man opened the cell, indicating to follow him. It became fairly obvious that the other was taking the long way to the showers. He probably did not want him to see where exactly he was located inside the building – smart. When they reached the showers, he started undressing while the other man grabbed a fresh towel and some shower gel. He handed it over to the smaller man, putting the plastic shaver on top of it all. “You know why.” The other man just nodded and walked off, not caring that Drautos could see all of him. He had lost all sense of shame years ago, among other things. When the water hit his battered body, he closed his eyes and relaxed a little. “Whatever you told Regis the other day got him to break down. Clarus had to drive him home.” In his periphery he could see Drautos lean against the tiled threshold of the shower room, not really looking at him, just being present so they could ‘talk’. “He told me his view of things and I told him mine.” “How do you want to be called, then?” “I don’t have a name.” “But you can choose to have one.” At that, he stopped momentarily. That was not the answer he had expected to hear. 

Both men had remained quiet after that. Every now and then, he would throw a quick glance over his shoulder to confirm if his ‘guard’ was still there, but that was it. Once done he towelled down and turned towards the other man, who gave him a quick once over. “You still look like shit.” “I’ve had worse. But, I’m clean now.” Drautos hummed. The hitman grabbed his shorts and pulled them on, feeling the other man’s eyes on him. “You’re not like them. Your training is different.” he said after a moment, contemplating whether it was the right thing to engage into conversation. “SEALS, Spetsnaz and Kopassus.” For that, Drautos received a raised eyebrow. “What are doing here, then?” “That is a question I keep asking myself... let’s get you back.” 

Drautos could have slapped himself left and right for this slip-up. He was getting soft with those kids around – he never would have answered such a question this easily. Hell, Ulric had been trying to pry this information from him for years now. And then, some guy came along and ‘pow’ he punched it out of him without too much effort. The fuck?! As soon as he had dropped the man off in his cell, he had left, making his way towards the training hall. He needed to punch something. Throwing his leather jacket onto the floor, he zoned in on the heavy-bag hanging from the ceiling, starting his assault; punches becoming harder and faster with every minute passing by. 

When he started to feel better, he eased up and eventually stopped completely. Breathing hard, he checked the clock on the opposite wall – it had taken him roughly 30 minutes to calm down. Leaning against the heavy-bag he closed his eyes, focussing on his breathing. After a moment, he pushed off the bag, turned on his heels, picked up his jacket and left towards the exit of the building. He needed a drink. When he reached the lobby, he ran into Regis and Clarus. “Titus, you’re here?” The man just shrugged. “Someone needed to check in. And you didn’t look like you were able to handle it.” he shot back. Thursday after work, the Captain had visited both men, seriously done with their antics. First, they had wailed about getting their ‘baby brother’ back, and now they that they had him, they were unable to look him in the eyes after that debacle about who left who behind. He had snapped at them to grow some balls and get their priorities right before he had left, ignoring them... until now. Clarus sighed. “Well... we needed to get our priorities straight, first, as we've been told.” “And grow some balls.” Regis added, receiving a nod from his friend. “Did it work?” “After our sons told us the same thing, yes. You’re rubbing off on them. Not sure how I feel about that.” Drautos chuckled lightly. “As long as they only pick up on the good things, I won’t say anything.” The two men nodded. “He seems chatty today, give it a go. By the way, I let him use the showers. He might need a change of clothes soon, too!” And with that, he left the two men to their own devices. He was done for today! 

Saturday came and went, Regis and Clarus had stayed with him for hours. Even though he refused to say much, he was listening to the two men. They had apologized that he perceived the events that had parted their ways in such a painful way, admitting that – in hindsight – they should have behaved differently. Probably. Likely. When he had not responded to any of that, they had started asking about his life with the older hitman. Had asked him if Gilgamesh treated him well. At that, the younger man would nod every now and then, simply to show that he was still listening. Eventually, they started asking about his targets. When he had started killing. Why they left their signatures at the crime scene. And how his own signature linked to the one from Gilgamesh. It did not sit right with him that they kept confusing him and the older man. Thus, he told them that the other man had taken up the mantle of leader-mentor-father for him. Told them what the differences between them were. If they wanted to do their job, they needed to get their facts right first. When they landed on the topic of Aldercapt and the other ‘targets’ the two men had killed in the past month, he grew quiet again; refusing to talk about his current assignment. Clarus and Regis had picked up on that quickly, diverting their conversation towards better topics – which meant their kids. Pressing their phones against the glass divider, they showed him pictures of the children and he admitted to them, that he had run into them before; telling them about how Prompto had jumped his bones in the middle of Highstreet. Strangely, the story made both men laugh and giggle, but he did not understand why. Waiting for the other two men to calm down from their laughing-fit he started to wonder. “Why are you keeping me here?” he asks calmly. “You should know that Gilgamesh will come for me. And I will go with him. Why spend effort on showing me all these pictures and telling me all these stories that have no meaning to me? I don’t understand.” “Cor, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You know that, right? You don’t have to go with him. He doesn’t have a hold over you.” They could practically feel the change in the air. And then, it happened. “I will not betray him!” the younger man snapped back with a snarl. “And stop. Calling. Me. That!” And they were back at the beginning. Well done! “Do you want to continue? Is this what you want to do the rest of your life? Being hunted by practically the whole world? Following orders of a man who evidently has some issues?” “You have no right to say these things! He was the one who saved me. He was the one who took me in. Nursed me back to health. Made me strong. He never lied to me! I will follow him without question.” It was the first time the Immortal’s control broke, showing the man behind that stoic, calm and controlled mask he always wore. And frankly, Regis and Clarus were shocked. Being profilers for years now, made them analyse the man behind the divider at once, trying to identify what had set him off. But it was difficult, when the man was prowling and growling like a wounded tiger, ready to strike if they came too close. So, they did the next best thing they could: take their leave so he could calm down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I miss sparring, wanna go back to the gym for a good fight - anyone else feeling the same? Anyway, here you go, enjoy.


	12. Last resort

On Sunday, all three men came to visit. Evidently, the men had sat down and done their homework. And evidently, they had all different opinions on the matter, if their body language was anything to go by, that is. Now, they were standing in front of his cell. In his uncontrolled fit yesterday, he had let it out on the interior of his confines. The plastic table was utterly destroyed, the boxes and water bottle scattered around and some blood was smeared across the divider from where he had punched the glass until he had no strength left to continue. He was sitting in seiza again, as he always did. His knuckles were covered with dried blood, his gaze lowered to the ground a few feet in front of him. He felt ashamed of his own behaviour; refused to look at them, when they addressed him again with ‘Cor’. He could hear Regis and Clarus shuffling around, then one of them left hurriedly. Just a mere moment later, a second set of footsteps left – leaving Drautos and him alone. The man did not say anything, but he could feel his gaze on him. When both men returned, there was some more shuffling before a quiet ‘click’ indicated that the door to his cell was opened. At that, he lifted his gaze and saw the tall man walk in, a box and a small bowl in hands. The other walked over and sat down in front of him. He held out his hand and demanded, “Hand.” First, the Immortal looked a little confused, not understanding, then it clicked and he slowly moved his left. Drautos grabbed it. He was surprised. He had expected the other man to be more aggressive about it, but his hold was almost gentle. He had to force himself not to pull back, not used to people touching him outside of a fight. Not used to gentle. Drautos must have noticed it as his gaze lingered on him longer than necessary before focussing on cleaning the wounds, tightening his grip to make it more bearable. Then, he said, “Idiots, all three of you. I get it, it’s not easy. But for crying out loud, this is ridiculous. Other hand.” Not diverting his eyes from the other man, he reached out with his right, retracting his left slowly. “You guys are family. There was a connection once. You can’t change what happened in the past, focus on the damn future and make the best out of this situation. You only have one life, so live it without regrets.” He looked up at the man in front of him. “And you... behave. I told you already that I don’t fancy cleaning blood off surfaces.” “Is that a threat?” he shot back without thinking; returning the stare. “I can make it one.” Drautos’ lips quirked up slightly, not breaking eye contact. When Clarus cleared his throat, both men blinked before looking away. Once done, the Captain stood up and was about to move towards the glass, but then, seemed to change his mind. When he looked back at the man still sitting in seiza, he cocked his brow – thinking. He walked back towards the hitman and crouched down next to him, putting the bowl and the remaining paper towels down. “Since you need something to do, how about you clean up?” The Immortal could feel the other man’s breath on his cheek, but did not say anything. He simply nodded in agreement. 

_Let it go, let it go. Can’t hold it back anymore._ Three heads turned immediately when that disgusting ring tone echoed through the corridor. Fumbling out his phone, Regis shrugged innocently. “Caelum. Oh... but of course. We’ll leave at once.” When Regis disconnected the call, he sighed deeply. “We have received an urgent assignment.” “Gilgamesh?” Clarus asked and Drautos could feel the man next to him tense. “No, they need assistance with de-escalating a hostage situation. Some religious group took the whole church folk in Topeka as hostages. Started killing already. Apparently, the team on-site screwed up.” Without a word, the Captain got up and left the cell. Clarus shot him one apologetic look and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, Cor. Guess we will be out for the rest of the day. I hope you’ll be alright. Food is in the boxes, as usual.” “We’ll be back as quickly as we can. Should it take longer, we’ll ask someone to check in.” 

Turns out, the team on-site was Lazarus’ group. Things had gone well at the beginning. The profiles they set up for the group members of that sect were correct, but arrogance and impatience had taken the better of them, upsetting the leader of the sect, consequently, starting to kill. Regis, had connected with the men via conference call while Drautos was avoiding cars at that break-neck speed they were driving at without even breaking a sweat. When they arrived, they found Lazarus and his group loudly arguing with the local forces’ chief officer. As always, the Captain’s presence alone demanded attention which he also received immediately. The heads turned around when he strode over to the group of fighting men and pushed them apart. “You have two seconds to calm yourselves before I start throwing people out of this building.” he thundered, aware that this would put the men in front of him into place. When everyone calmed down, he stepped aside and let Regis and Clarus through. “Sheriff...” Regis read the name plate of the man in front of him. “... Auburnbrie. We have come as quickly as possible. Would you bring us up to speed, seeing that we have limited time?” Smiling his best diplomatic smile, Regis waited until the man in front of him turned around and stomped off into a smaller office. The three men following suit, closing the door. 

30 minutes later, Auburnbrie left the office and nodded over to Lazarus and his group. “They wanna talk to ya.” Inside the small office, the three men looked grim but before the young agent could say anything, Drautos interfered. “Not a word Lazarus. We’re here to clean up your mess and we’ll talk about it once we’re back. Provide us with the latest status update and then we figure out a way to save the remaining hostages.” The man just nodded meekly. 

Once Lazarus and the others had updated their three superiors, they left for the church. Any attempt to talk to the leader was declined, but Regis, worming his way effectively into the heart of the lady who was maintaining radio-contact with them, still got the information he wanted. Clarus took care of arranging food to be delivered and Drautos checked the surroundings and liaised with the sniper positioned in the barn located opposite of the church. When all three men completed their tasks, they sat down in a makeshift tent and worked out a game plan. “Doesn’t look good. The guy and his followers are very convinced that their leader is doing god’s work, and not that priest. They don’t have any demands. But there is doubt that we might be able to exploit.” Regis said, pulling his greying hair. “Anyhow, a man on a mission is difficult to stop. So, we need to focus on him first.” he continued, knowing very well of the irony that sentence carried. “The force is ready to storm the premises but at the cost of lives. I agree with you, that guy is pulling all the strings, they are following him blindly. If he’s out, then the group might dissolve automatically.” Clarus added. “Then we’ve got a problem. There’s no way that kid of a sniper can hit him. The target is keeping one of the children close as protection. If the bullet doesn’t hit, it’s a dead child we have to deal with.” the Captain grumbled, throwing the empty water bottle into the bin at the other side of the room. “What about you?” “Nope.” Regis and Clarus just looked at him, their expression telling him they did not believe him. “I’m no sniper, Regis. The guy is hiding away in a corner room completely separated from the rest of the church. The window is barricaded almost completely, they made sure nothing gets in or out for that matter. And he is not even sitting in sight. Even if the distance is no problem, that is and I am not going to ruin our one chance, especially when a child’s involved.” Silence settled around the trio once more, each of them thinking hard. “So... you say it is possible for someone with more skill?” Regis asked innocently. “I believe that’s what I implied, yes. Why?” “Oh no... you won’t.” Clarus got up, looking angry. “But...” “No. Titus, tell him it’s a stupid idea!” “What’s a stupid idea?” Evidently, the man was missing something. “Tell him, Regis. Tell him that you’re thinking of asking Cor.” Oh... okay. Regis just shrugged. “But he's a good shot, and it’s important... and urgent.” “That’s the same thing Regis, and my answer is still no. Titus, say something here, some back-up would be great.” Both men looked at their friend who just did not react – at all. Drautos stood up and walked towards the far wall to slam his head into it. “I think we broke him Clarus.” “No, not us... you.” When the tall man turned around, he glared at Regis. “You... what on earth makes you think that would work? I’m sorry, but I am starting to wonder if you missed the memo: he is a wanted man. Wanted, Regis! We shouldn’t even have him. Besides, how do you want to get him involved – at the slimmest chance of him agreeing, he was declared ‘dead’ years ago.” “But you’re not saying ‘no’.” Clarus was the next to lose a nerve with his friend. “Even if he could do it, why would he help us?” “Because he’s a good guy!” A desperate whine escaped Clarus’ lips before he patted his friend’s shoulder. “I wish I shared the same faith in people that you have, Regis.” 

He had just finished cleaning his cell and moved into his daily routine when the door opened and someone hurriedly walked down the corridor. When Ulric appeared, he returned his focus back to what he was doing. “Hey, uhm... there's a phone call for you. From the Captain and the Bosses.” Ulric put his phone into the trade-box and closed the lid on his side, waiting for the Immortal to take it out, but the man did not stop his exercise. “It's kinda urgent you know?!” he said, tapping his foot impatiently. After another moment, he rolled his eyes and took the phone back out. “He is ignoring me... okay.” The younger man put his phone on speaker and then stepped closer. “He should hear you now.” “Thank you, agent Ulric. Cor, we have a situation here and might need a sniper. So, we would like to hire you, if you’re available?” At that Ulric yelped and almost dropped his phone in shock. Even the Immortal stopped midway of his handstand push-up, almost losing balance. “Hello? Anyone there?” “Maybe he and Ulric died of shock from your stupidity?” Clarus supplied, his voice a little quieter, he was probably situated further away from the phone. “No, we’re alright, I think. I just almost dropped the phone, Boss. Go ahead.” Ulric chimed in, clearing his throat and holding the phone up again. “Enough.” Drautos voice sounded annoyed. “Leonis, we have a psycho who is threatening to kill a number of people and keeps a child close-by as protection from the sniper that is currently positioned and ready to shoot. That kid is fresh from the academy. Do you really think he will be able to hit his target on a 50-yard distance, through a six-by-six-inch window barricaded and littered with holes and then still avoid hitting the child?” A moment passed, then another. Finally, the Immortal landed gracefully on his feet, turned his back towards the agent and walked over to the small sink. Turning on the tap, he splashed the ice-cold water into his face before glaring at the small mirror that was safely secured above it. “I’ll do it.” 

Barely nine hours after they had bid him goodbye that morning, the Immortal had arrived in Topeka, donning a fresh set of clothes. His glare had been speaking volumes and people had tried to stay away from him as far as possible when he and Ulric had walked into the tent. All the while they were bringing him up to speed, he could not help but notice that everyone was throwing him weird glances. Sadly, he knew exactly why. Ulric had given him some of his clothes – seeing that none of his other colleagues had any spare – but unfortunately, the other man was of smaller built. Thus, the clothes he was wearing were quite tight in certain areas. Eventually, he snarled threateningly after which the weird looks stopped. Drautos continued smirking, meeting his gaze completely unafraid. Once they confirmed their game plan, 'his Captain’ had taken him towards the barn to meet with the sniper. The younger man had been glad that he was being released off his position and handed over his rifle happily before practically sprinting away. When both men were alone, the Immortal took off his jacket, laying it out onto the hay and got into seiza to inspect the rifle. Unfortunately, he could not hold in a groan when the jeans pinched uncomfortably. That just earned him a dark chuckle from the other man. “I can’t believe Ulric convinced you to wear this.” he finally said. The Immortal shrugged. “My clothes were bloody. That would draw unnecessary attention. This kid needs to learn to clean his weapon better.” He lightly blew through the barrel before putting it back into place. Then, he lay onto his front, looking through the sniperscope. After a moment, he said, “This might take a little. But I can make that shot.” When Drautos did not bother to move, he added, “You don’t have to stay. I won’t try to escape. I gave my word.” “I don’t doubt that.” the other man replied but remained in his spot. Focussing on the task at hand, the Immortal tuned out his surroundings. His world consisted only of what he saw through the sniperscope. He saw the barricaded window, sporting a few holes here and there where he could see inside. He could see a shadow on the wall, a bookshelf and a mirror. He focussed on the latter. There, he saw the man, a child sitting on his lap. He needed to ricochet the bulled. When he found a suitable surface, he shifted his position slightly, pulling his leg towards his body to prop up a bit. “Target in sight.” he whispered, more to himself than anything else. He breathed in and exhaled slowly, until he stopped. He pulled the trigger. 

A moment later, he let go of the rifle and sat back into seiza, pulling at the fabric around his thighs to make the position more comfortable. He inhaled and exhaled once more before he said, “done” when, suddenly, his head was pulled back and a foreign tongue invaded his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am blaming Gen for the ending. Enjoy...


	13. Deception is a Master's skill

He had known it was a bad idea. He did not care. Constantly ignoring his needs, compensating them with training did him no favours – he was aware of it, but still did it – and that had now backfired with full force. On some primal level, he had needed this – it did not make it any better, though. It all started with him watching the man in front of him sprawl into position, allowing him a nice view of the other’s backside. The too tight clothes did nothing to hide the ripple that went through the Immortal’s body when he tensed and relaxed his muscles to get comfortable. He could see the other man’s upper body rise and fall, in-tune with his breathing. When he pulled his leg up, Drautos knew he was done for. When the shot had echoed through the barn and the other man got back into seiza, he moved. 

The kiss was one-sided, sloppy at best and short-lived. Once the Immortal got over the first surprise, he threw his leg out, turned, sprawled and pulled Drautos down. He was quickly to throw his weight on top of the heavier man, pressing his legs into the other’s sides, using the discarded rifle to press down onto the exposed throat. “What. Are. You. Doing?” he snarled, baring his teeth aggressively. Of course, the Captain did not look intimidated, nor did he look too surprised about his reaction either. He just lay there, taking it. “What do you think?” he asked calmly, back in control, now that he got what he wanted. Before the Immortal could say or do anything else, he could hear Ulric holler, “Captain, all good up there?” Without breaking eye contact, the man underneath him replied with a “Yes, we'll be down in a sec.” and then addressed him directly, voice lower, “Unless I am needed otherwise?” The Immortal pressed down a little more onto Drautos’ throat before he let go and stood up, towering over the other man. “Don’t touch me again.” Every word was clear and sharp, laced with barely contained anger and perhaps a tinge of confusion. 

When the two men had emerged from the barn, the Immortal looked ready to kill everyone in close vicinity. When Sheriff Auburnbrie tried to thank him, he had just walked by, snapped a quiet “Take me back.” towards Regis and Clarus and then disappeared in the car Ulric and he had arrived in. When the group threw Drautos a confused look, the man ignored them, his gaze lingering on the car the other man had disappeared into. After sundown, they had finally arrived at headquarters, the Immortal had demanded to be taken back to his cell at once, despite Regis asking him to join them for a quick dinner. Wordlessly, Clarus had complied and led the younger man back to his cell. He had rid himself off those uncomfortable clothes and then laid down, blanket pulled over his head. Clarus had made one attempt of conversation before leaving, but he had stubbornly ignored it. Only when he felt like he was alone, did he pull his cover down, attending to his needs: food and hygiene. When he wanted to put his own clothes back on, he realized they were not where he had left them. Swearing profoundly, he lay back into bed, staring at the ceiling, contemplating: how dare that man touch him like that, how dare he stick his tongue down his throat so unabashedly? He growled, pulling at his hair like a child. He knew he needed to calm down, a mind in uproar made mistakes. He took a deep breath and held it in for five seconds before exhaling slowly. Repeating this exercise a few times, he started to calm down. Recalling what Gilgamesh had taught him, he dissected today’s events... 

The next morning had come too soon. He would have preferred to stay in bed a little longer, but that did not stop him from following through with his morning routine. He knew it would make him feel better – and it did. By the time he had started on his kata, his thoughts were back in order, his mind calm. His orders were clear, he knew what needed to be done. The Immortal would execute his orders and then return to Gilgamesh for punishment, no matter what. He would not be manipulated by those men – he was loyal. This was just another test; nothing more, nothing less! When he heard the door to the corridor open, he knew it was time; he was ready to face his targets. After all, two could play that game! 

“Good morning, Cor. I hope you are feeling better today?” Regis came in with a smile on his face, carrying two bags. “I am truly grateful that you helped us out yesterday. The sheriff was very impressed, well... I think everyone was. I don’t see why you were so upset about the outcome, was it not good? Oh, and I brought you your clothes. Fresh out of the washing machine.” A moment of silence, then, “Thank you.” the younger man said, taking the bag from the trade-box, Regis had put it in. The man’s smile seemed to widen, so he decided to press on. “Regis.” Hook... “I want to know... about our past.” Line... The older man looked at him as if he had just admitted to believing the world was still flat like a pizza. Gaping like a fish, it took him a couple of seconds before he had processed what the other man had said to him. Then, with a heart-warming smile, he said, “I’d love to, Cor.” And sinker... 

Regis spent three hours telling him stories of their ‘crazy adventures’ when they were teenagers. At some point, he had switched off his phone as to not be disturbed. Unfortunately, that did not stop Clarus to practically kick open the door and march towards his life-long friend. “Regis. The Board is asking for you. What on earth are you doing? Hi, Cor.” “I am telling Cor about how he accidentally blew up Mors’ car because he wanted to see if it worked in real-life just like it does in Hollywood movies.” Clarus looked a little perplexed. “Uhm...” was the very sophisticated response that came from him. Then, he remembered what he came for. “That’s great, but the Board. Regis, if you won’t talk to them, I swear I’ll strangle them all.” “I could assist if you want.” The Immortal – no, Cor Leonis – said. Just like Regis before, Clarus openly gaped at the man inside the cell. “That... let me get back to you on that... I think.” he stuttered out. He looked at Regis, a little overwhelmed. Before his friend could say anything, though, it was Cor who spoke up. “Go. You have work! Don’t neglect it. It draws unwanted attention.” “And here I was thinking you would support me against Clarus.” Regis whined with fake disappointment, earning himself raised eyebrows from both men. “What?” Clarus shook his head. “Just... get going! See you later, Cor.” Both men waved quickly at him before they disappeared. When the door shut behind them, 'Cor Leonis’ straightened his posture and his gaze turned cold. 

Throughout the day, Regis and Clarus had come to visit him interchangeably. They had talked, he had listened. Unbeknownst to them, he had pried out information on Drautos’ whereabouts and they had willingly given it to him – after Lazarus’ screw-up, the man was busy with training the Glaives; he would be unavailable for the next couple of days. That gave him enough time to convince these two men to drop their guard around him – no, not him, but around Cor. If he could convince them to release him, he would be able to get close enough to complete his mission. Tuesday and Wednesday were taxing days, to say the least. It was difficult for him to pretend to care, because – frankly – he did not. He could not. Building connections with targets was suicide. He would not let these people ruin him. He would not fail again. When Thursday – day nine as per his count – came around, he still had not come up with a way to deal with the tall man. He did not expect the Captain to be swayed that easily. He made an unamused face at the thought that crossed his mind. There seemed one possible solution for that. He would probably have to bite the bullet and let that man touch him again. Gilgamesh had told him once that pleasures of the flesh were a weakness that could be exploited if done correctly. He never had to do it before – never got that far – but it was never too late to learn something new. All that mattered was the mission! 

On Friday evening, Clarus had come by and released him so he could take a shower and shave, providing him with a fresh set of clothes and some spare – and his own plastic shaver, what an improvement! “Better than running around in the same stuff all day long, right?” he had said and smiled. What he did not know at that time was, that they had not just gotten him training shorts and two white shirts, but also – thanks to Regis, he presumed – pyjama bottoms... with Cookie Monster pattern. Only when he was back in his cell did he see them, and then it had already been too late. Clarus had run out with a bellowing laugh. With increasing confusion, the Immortal had wondered what the fuck was wrong with these two men!? And whatever it was, was hopefully not infectious! 

Today was Saturday, Regis and Clarus had visited Cor again and they had spent all morning and early afternoon together. While bickering around, both men had entered his cell so they could ‘play cards’. Unfortunately, though, neither Regis nor Clarus had paid attention to the door. Only when the ‘beep’ from the security lock was to be heard the men had looked up. They had to call Drautos to get them out – all the while unaware that the Immortal could have killed them easily. The Captain was not very impressed by that stunt, he had punched in the code and pulled both men out, ignoring him. It was evident that the man had had very strenuous days behind him. And it was also evident that he was suspicious about his change in demeanour. But Drautos had not commented on it. Not until the other two men had left to go home to their kids. Then, he had pulled up against the divider and glared at him. That was five minutes ago, he had not moved since then. Neither had he, unafraid to return the glare. When the taller man spoke, his voice sounded strained. “What are you doing?” “Making the best out of the situation.” Drautos hummed, he remembered those words from a few days back. Still, they did not quench his suspicions. Change in tactics, then. “You look like you want to punch someone.” “Are you offering?” Cor tilted his head slightly, still not breaking eye contact. “We still have to continue our fight from the other day. One-on-one, no distractions, no weapons.” he replied. “I want to know who is better! Don’t you?” he pressed on calmly, laying the challenge bare. Drautos felt his gut churn, this did not sit right with him. But he was tired, this week had been hell! Without a word, he walked over and typed in the code again, holding the door open. Cor regarded him for a moment and then walked out of his cell. Together, they made their way to the gym. 

The gym turned out to be a spacious hall with a close-combat corner that was clearly separated from the rest, if the red tape reaching from one side to the other was any indication of that. The Captain had excused himself with a gruff “Gotta change.” before he had walked off, leaving Cor to his own devices. When the man returned, he sported a similar outfit to his: black training shorts but rather than a white shirt he was wearing a crimson-coloured tank top which only accentuated the muscle he had. He threw a pair of black hand-wraps at Cor, who caught them with ease. “Warm-up for 15 and then vale tudo?” he asked and Cor nodded. The two men went into opposite corners on the mats and started warming up, keeping the clock in sight. When they were done, they went to the center of the fighting area and got into stance. Then, they charged. And just like the first time they fought, they went all-out from the start. Cor was again first to draw blood, but it took him longer than the first time around. He also had more difficulty to get Drautos into a leg-lock. It was evident that the man was adamant on making this as difficult for him as possible. He could not deny it, he liked that idea. 

Another hard punch came in and he blocked, spinning around to side kick the other man. Evading by a hair’s breadth, Drautos stepped into Cor’s opening, trying to grab his leg to throw him down, but the other man was faster and followed-up with a spinning kick. This time around, he managed to block the kick, earning a snarl from the other man. Both men took a step back to reset their stances before they went in again. Cor managed to sweep the Captain and the man stumbled, giving him enough time to break through his guard and land a vertical punch to his lower ribs. For a moment, both men locked eyes, a faint smile gracing their features. “You’re awfully close, don’t you think?” Drautos breathed out in a raspy voice, his smile turning wolfish. That was the moment Cor knew he needed to step out of the other man’s guard right the fuck now and he almost made it. If he had not miscalculated the other’s reach. The other grabbed hold of his neck, pulled him forward and kneed him into his gut. Trying to get out of the hold, the hitman blocked the second knee and pressed forward, throwing them both to the ground. Drautos grunted painfully when he landed on his back. The split second he needed to get his breath back was enough for Cor: his legs came up, knees pressing painfully into the other man’s biceps, locking him in. Careful not to fall victim to a hip escape, he made himself as heavy as he could. Breathing erratic, he tried not to sound too pleased with the outcome of this fight. “Tap... out.” he pressed out between short breaths, waiting for the other man to accept his defeat. And so, he did, the Captain tapped against his thigh and he slid off the other man’s chest and arms, allowing him to breathe with more ease. He did not, however, move off the other man, remaining seated on top of him. Cor had to admit that he felt thrilled to keep the man pinned underneath him. It made his stomach stir in excitement. He leaned down, placing one hand next to Drautos’ head, locking eyes with him. “You lose, you die.” he said. “Better come up with a good reason to spare your life... Titus.” The last word Cor whispered in a low voice, wondering how the other would react, testing his boundaries. And react he did. Drautos grabbed hold of his hips and flipped them over, crushing their mouths together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am blaming Gen for this. As always, enjoy...


	14. The mechanics of what...?

Instinct told him to push the other man off – just like last time. But when Drautos bit his lower lip and pressed his body into him, the excitement he felt build up during their spar spiked even more. Was this what the old hitman had meant, he was not sure!? Torn but intrigued, Cor let him continue. But nothing happened? The Captain released his upper lip and growled. “Either, you kiss back or you throw me off.” he ordered, but only received a defiant snarl in return. Then, a little more quietly, “I don’t know how.” At that, Drautos propped himself up a little to actually look at the other man. “Don’t tell me you never kissed anyone before?” he said, incredulous. Was that a light blush on the hitman’s cheeks? “It’s not something that was high up my priority list all these years.” was the snappy reply, but Cor only received another low growl. “Just do as I do – it’s no rocket science.” With that, the man leaned back down, starting another kiss, but a little slower. He would be damned if something like that ruined the moment. After the first few uncoordinated attempts both men worked out a sloppy rhythm that turned more frantic when the Captain rolled his hips into Cor’s demandingly. The friction he could feel made him claw at Drautos’ tank top. When it became unbearable, he snapped his head to the left, shutting his eyes tightly; trying to get his breathing back under control... and his body. The other man had the decency to at least give him a long moment before he leaned in again, shattering that little bit of control he had regained. “You’re hard, I can feel it.” he whispered into Cor’s ear, emphasizing his point by pressing his pelvis further down that it became almost too painful. 

Cor could not avoid hissing at the pressure. He should stop it – he knew. He was not in control of the situation anymore. He understood what Gilgamesh had tried to explain about ‘being physical outside of battle’. And yet, there was a tiny part of him that did not want it to stop. That little part also told him it would only benefit him to complete his mission, he would just have to endure. “Cor...?” The voice asked softly – why was it soft? He opened his eyes and turned his head back, just to be faced with an uncertain-looking Drautos. “I...” He swallowed down the lump in his throat. “... never needed to do this before.” Needed? The other man gave him one more assessing look before he moved up and out of his reach, sitting back on his haunches. Cor slowly followed, sitting up as well. With the other man putting a little space between them, it was easier to collect his wits and think. He felt like his body was on fire and the throbbing between his legs was also not making this any more comfortable for him. He spared the Captain a quick glance and was surprised to see how much more in control he was, despite the evident hard-on he was sporting. Right now, the other man was the epitome of patience – was it not supposed to be the other way around? “The pleasures of the flesh weaken the mind... I shouldn’t give in to them.” Cor said with a low voice, recalling his mentor’s words. It only earned him a cocked brow. “Is this what you think or what he thinks?” Now, it was Cor’s turn to throw Drautos a questioning look. “You keep asking me that. Why?” “Frankly, that guy seems to be in your head more often than not. What do you want? For yourself? Or do you only do as you’re being told – like a good little soldier?” “I am my own man!” Cor snapped back, perhaps a little too quickly. The taller man leaned forward, slowly, not touching him and Cor realized the other man was only barely in control – they were the same, then? “Then make that damn decision!” he snapped in that commanding voice of his. Unbeknownst to the man, Cor agreed; he needed to make the decision now: follow through or stop and try something else. No, he would follow through, he was not that easy to break. He would pass this test, just like any other. The mission was all that mattered after all. Fuck those useless emotions! “Proceed.” Without another second to spare, Drautos grabbed hold of his thighs and pulled him closer. Cor was forced to spread his legs a little more to accommodate the other man’s position which earned him an appreciative hum – was that right? Before he could question the man, though, the Captain grabbed his shirt and pulled him forward, locking lips again. Busy fending off the invading tongue, he accidentally bit down on it when a hand grabbed his balls and squeezed hard. Pulling back, Drautos growled before flicking his tongue out and over his bottom lip, the blood turning it an even deeper red than it already was. He pushed Cor back onto his back and invaded his personal space at once, aiming for the man’s ear. “I'll try go easy on you...” he rasped, chuckling heatedly. 

The hand on his balls let go and he could feel it pull his shirt up. When the fabric of the hand-wraps slid over his skin he felt a shiver run through his body. Next, he felt strong fingers scratch over his pectoral, a soft groan escaping his lips. Surprised about himself, he made a fist and bit into it, but Drautos grabbed his arm and forced it over his head. “Don’t.” he breathed, before diving in for another kiss. Cor, however, snarled and tried to bite the other man in defiance. This only earned him another amused hum – this man was making fun of him, was that it? “Aggressive, much?” “Only when I am being made fun of.” “I am not making fun of you.” He pinched Cor’s nipple with his free hand and was rewarded with another hiss. “I’m dead serious.” he said, letting his hand fall between their bodies and – with a little effort – pulled their shorts down, freeing their cocks. There it was again, that feeling of excitement Cor had felt build up during their fight and before thinking it through, he grabbed the other man’s cock firmly. “Fuck.” Drautos swore under his breath, closing his eyes for a second – he should not have given that man hand-wraps. Cor watched with bated breath how the other man fought to maintain whatever control he had and decided that he liked that look on the other man’s face. He moved his hand up the other’s girth before pulling down with more strength, eliciting a low growl that sounded way too desperate. So, he did it again... and again... and then, he gasped. Drautos had grabbed his cock and pressed his thumb into the slit. “So... you do know something, then.” “I know the mechanics behind masturbation. And I can improvise.” Cor stated matter-of-factly and received another breathy chuckle from the other man. “I don’t think ‘mechanics’ is the right word for this.” Lowering his hips a little more, the Captain commanded sharply, “Hands off.” before he aligned himself with the other man, grabbed hold of both their cocks, and squeezed hard. Cor snarled lowly and bucked up involuntarily. When he heard the other man ask if he was ‘ready’, he only nodded. 

The pace Drautos set was brutal – it was fast, hard and painful. The hand-wraps were burning, it was almost unbearable. Every now and then, Drautos would stop to tug and play with his balls, all the while biting his clavicle. He had released Cor’s other hand to hold his balance and left the hitman to claw and tear through his tank top, trying to deal with the sensory overload. It would not take much longer, now – his erratic breathing giving him away. The Captain moved his hand back to their cocks, twisting and pumping while rutting against the other man. He watched Cor cum, biting his lower lip desperately, barely able to look at him – the deep blue of his irises decreased to a thin circle – and that was all he needed to blow his own load onto the other's body. 

The stayed in position for a little longer before Drautos sat back onto his haunches, tucking himself back into his pants. Cor’s eyes followed his every move before he let his gaze drop to the cum covering his abdomen. Frowning, he run two fingers through it and looked back at the other man, raising an eyebrow. Meeting the other’s gaze, he held it for a few seconds before the Captain bent down and started to lick him clean. When he was done, he grabbed hold of Cor’s arm and did the same with his fingers, holding the other’s gaze. Then, he stood up, pulling the other with him. “Thank... you.” Cor said, pulling his shirt down and shorts back up, wincing painfully. “It might burn for a while. Disadvantage of hand-wraps.” Drautos said amused, starting to rid himself off said equipment. 

The advantage of being emotionally constipated meant that neither man felt too awkward after their little debauchery – they treated it as what it was: releasing some pent-up aggressions. At least one did, the other tried. They cleaned up after themselves properly and then showered, not talking much, rather sorting through their own thoughts. They did not touch at all, keeping a little distance. When Cor was back in his cell, Drautos gave him a silent nod and left. As soon as the door closed behind the man, Cor rushed to the toilet, throwing up, shivering uncontrollably – he was seriously not looking forward to Gilgamesh’s punishment for botching a mission so badly. 

Sunday was a quiet day. Only Regis and Drautos had come over in the late afternoon, excusing Clarus as 'being preoccupied’. They had talked a little, or rather, Regis did the talking while the Captain was quietly staring at him. Neither man had questioned the angry red spot on his clavicle that was not all-to-well hidden by his black shirt – he had purposefully put his own ‘work clothes’ on for that matter. Eventually, they had some food and – for the first time since he was captured – they allowed him to leave the premisses for a short walk outside in a small park close-by. Of course, only after he had promised them to ‘behave’, as Drautos liked to call it. Unlike the other times, though, the small smile that accompanied that statement was not present. He had frowned, but did not interpret too much into it. When Regis received a call from Clarus, they left; apparently meeting up with the man in the park. What Regis had not told him, though, was that he would not come alone. To his surprise, Clarus was waiting there with the four young men he had met some time ago and a little girl sitting on the man’s shoulders, waving excitedly, constantly calling for Regis. His stride faltered. “What is this?” “What does it look like?” “They shouldn’t be here!” the Captain shrugged, sounding indifferent. “Why? You’re planning on killing us all and then run?” Cor cleared his throat – what the hell? “No.” he replied sternly, frown increasing. He walked over to Regis who was now waving excitedly at him. Quickly, he scanned his surroundings more carefully. He had done it when they had entered the park, but now with children around, he needed to make sure they were truly alone. He needed to know if Gilgamesh was watching. 

“Cor...” Regis voice pulled his attention back to what was going on right in front of him. “I would like to introduce you to our family: These are Noctis, my son...” The young black-haired boy smiled weakly. “Ignis and Prompto, his best friends.” “It is a pleasure meeting you again.” “Yes sir, so cool.” the blonde laughed happily, but slightly embarrassed. "And those two are Gladio and Iris, Clarus’ kids.” Cor let his gaze wander across the tall man’s features and then let it fall to the little girl hiding behind her brother’s leg. He crouched down, his mentor’s voice ringing in his head – ‘always target the weakest link’. He ignored that thought. “Hey.” he started. “This is weird, right?” The little girl nodded shyly. “Yeah, for me too.” At that, Iris moved a little out from her hiding position, her big brown eyes looking at him curiously. “Daddy says you’re family. But I’ve never seen you!” Cor forced the lump in his throat down. “I was gone for a long time. Working...” He threw a glare at Clarus and Regis when he heard them snigger – really, now? “Daddy said we couldn’t see you sooner because you were naughty. He only says that when Gladdy has done something wrong. Have you done something wrong?” Oh, the innocent perception of a child. “Yes.” “And will you do it again?” At that, Cor tensed. How was he supposed to answer that question? He threw a desperate look towards the two men who were already red in their faces; trying not to burst out laughing, he saw Drautos in his periphery, throwing him a strange look – he felt like he was missing something here. Giving the two laughing men one last glare, he knew they would definitely not help anytime soon. Thus, the truth it was. Cor looked back at Iris and sighed. “I probably will.” “But why? Do you like it?” “No, but it’s all I know.” Iris crunched her face together, evidence to her thinking hard, then her features lit up again in a big smile. “I like you.” With that, she threw her small arms around him and squeezed tightly – a hug, he realized. He stiffly hugged her back while something deep within him clicked into place that he did not even know had been missing until now. “Welcome home, uncle Cor.” she said happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Gen and I had a discussion about this. We're trying to depict our lovely hitmen as what they are: isolated beings, only focused on the task at hand, not really interacting with anyone. So, they should know how things work theoretically, but we can't really see them indulging in any activities outside their focus. Let us know your thoughts if you have any. Until then... enjoy!


	15. Repercussions

Cor had a headache. After they had all gotten over the first awkward few minutes of introductions, Iris had taken him by the hand and pulled him towards the playground. Then, she had slapped him and started running away – he had remained on the spot, staring after her in confusion. When she had come back and slapped him again, she just stared at him with the same disapproving look he had seen on her father’s face; the apple did not fall far from the tree, it seemed. Eventually, the others had come to his aid, Gladiolus grabbing Iris and throwing her over his shoulder, turning in circles. He had quickly removed himself and put a sufficient distance between them, before he growled at Clarus and Regis. “What do you think you’re doing here? Are you out of your mind?” he snapped, angry. “Oh, come now, Cor. You’re part of the family, which means, you should meet everyone.” “In the open? Literally where everyone could see us? Where you have no cover in case of an attack? I thought you guys were stupid, but this is too much!” he snarled quietly, not paying attention to his own slip of tongue. The two men looked hurt and he was satisfied with that. “You think us stupid? Just because we are putting effort into you; into this? When do you start accepting that we won’t give up on you again? Yes... we know it’s dangerous. Especially with Gilgamesh still out there. And yes... we know that you tried to play us.” Wait, what was that? Before Cor could say anything, Clarus continued, “We’re not as stupid as you think, Cor. But we are willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. We want to show you that we still care and that no matter what Gilgamesh did to you will change that. You are and always will be our little brother!” There was a moment of silence before Cor spoke up. “You knew?” “You’re good, almost bought it myself.” Drautos said, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Then, how?” Cor frowned. “Did you really believe we would leave you, the Immortal, without twenty-four-seven surveillance?” The man blanched slightly, whispering, “Cameras.” receiving only a sharp nod from the Captain. How in all nine circles of hell did he not think about this at least once? Cor’s heart was racing; there was no way he could control that fallout – or the punishment. And then, he remembered what he had done after the other man had left yesterday. Suddenly, the man’s behaviour made sense. “Oh.” he said quietly and heard the man bark out an angry, “Yeah... ‘oh’.” “Titus...” Regis’ voice sounded sympathetically, but the other man turned on his heel and walked back the way they had come from. Regis grabbed Cor’s biceps and pulled him closer, his voice quiet, yet stern. “Whatever you did, you better fix that.” As if he did not know that. He pulled his arm out of the surprisingly strong grip and followed Drautos with long strides. When he caught up with him, he stepped in front of the man, forcing him to halt. Drautos’ voice was cold as steel when he spoke. “What?” Yes, that was indeed a good question. Why did he even bother? No, that was not right. He got caught, he needed to apologize. That is how things worked, right? His gut feeling told him that something about that logic was still incorrect – he ignored the nagging feeling and locked eyes with the other man. “I never lied to you.” he started, not sure what he was trying to say. He did not get far though, as the other man interrupted him. “No, you deceived. And that is far worse! You know when people throw up? When something was done to them, they did not consent to!” With that, the man marched off. 

Drautos did not get far though, when suddenly, Regis yelled and dropped to his knees. A second later, the echo of the shot reverberated through the park. At once, he started looking around, trying to identify the direction the shot had come from. When his gaze fell onto Cor, he knew the other man was doing the same – and better. Cor was already staring at some point in the distance, gaze focussed. Why was he not moving? Before he could shout at the man, a second bullet hit Cor’s thigh and the man stumbled, his leg giving out. The Captain moved; he tackled Cor out of the way just before the third bullet hit the ground. He felt the man in his arms fidget and break the hold. He watched Cor get up and start running. “Oh, fuck me!” Drautos swore, got up and sprinted after a swiftly disappearing Cor, trying to catch up – not sure how he managed this pace with a wound like that. In his periphery he could see Gladiolus and Ignis follow suit. 

Cor jumped over the bushes and rolled off when his leg was unable to hold his weight; the bullet wound stinging painfully. He got up and continued his sprint. He knew where Gilgamesh was positioned. He had seen the morse code the other had telegraphed with a special flash light from the building – it had been just one word: ‘return’. He jumped against the wall, grabbed hold of the top part and pulled himself up and over it. He did not need to look back to know that they were on his heels. But he needed to reach Gilgamesh first. He turned the corner, got up the stairs, jumped over to the other building and climbed the rest of the wall. Balancing on top, he walked the narrow path, jumped again, grabbed hold of a thick branch of a tree and landed in a crouch. He was almost there. Cor rounded another corner, jumped over the barrier of the multi-level parking garage and headed up, the top floor his destination. 

When he finally arrived, the other man was looking at his watch, his gear already packed up. Out of breath, he stepped closer, waiting to be addressed – ignoring the burning pain in his leg. “Six minutes and 37 seconds. That is not acceptable, boy.” Gilgamesh turned to look at him through his mask. “Neither are the past 12 days. Why are they still alive? Did I not give you targets that needed neutralizing?” Breathing hard, Cor stumbled, hitting his knee on the hard floor. When he braced himself on his thigh, he noticed how blood soaked his trousers were from the exertion he had forced upon his leg. The bullet still being inside did not help. “I expect an answer boy!” the other hitman snapped and he stood back up. “I failed, sir.” “That’s not what I asked.” “I don’t have an answer for that, sir!” he said a little louder than necessary. Gilgamesh walked over slowly, but surely; circling him like a tiger its pray. “I see. Sit.” Cor did as he was told, sitting down into seiza, holding in a painful grunt. He did not understand the purpose of a lecture now. The three men would be here in little time, but it seemed the other man did not care. Cor opened his mouth to ask exactly that question, when he felt the cold steel of a blade against his throat. “I don’t recall giving you permission to talk, boy. I think it’s time for you to return, don’t you agree? Get some discipline back into you.” “Sorry to crush your party, but that ain’t gonna happen. Uncle Cor is staying with us, y’know!” Cor closed his eyes when he heard Gladiolus’ voice. Gilgamesh chuckled unpleasantly behind his mask, pressing the blade a little more into his throat, a thin red line shaping up already. “Uncle Cor...” Amused, he rolled the ‘r’ while turning towards the men that had joined their conversation. “That's not the boy’s name.” he said calmly to them, before looking down to him. “Don’t you agree, boy?” Cor bit his tongue, something inside him refusing to answer, but then, his head was pulled back, exposing his throat even more to the blade. “I asked a question and I expect an answer!” “Yes.” he rasped. “Louder.” Cor could feel the first droplets of blood run down his throat when he swallowed. “Yes, sir.” he shouted loud enough for the other men to hear it. Gilgamesh released him and the blade disappeared as well. “I don’t know what nonsense you have put into the boy’s head, but it ends now. He’s coming back with me – that’s where he belongs. And there is very little you can do about that. The choice is yours, now: fight or retreat. And this time, no pots will save you!” 

He was not sure whether to be glad or not about the fact that he could not see them. All he could do was to strain his ears, waiting for their decision. And when it came – or rather not – he felt something within him shatter. “Well, it seems the decision was made. Get up boy, there’s nothing left for you here. And you still need to receive punishment for your failure.” The man called ‘the Immortal’ stood, straightened his back and turned towards his mentor. “Yes, sir.” He followed Gilgamesh to the stairs. When they passed the three men, he threw Drautos an empty stare. He felt too numb to realize the other man was shaking his head slightly, in fact, he did not even bother to understand. Why should he? Without any further commotion, the two hitmen left. 

The drive back had been quiet. When they had arrived at their safehouse, Gilgamesh had ordered him to shower and tend to his wounds properly. Then, he expected him to wait in the cellar to receive his punishment. The Immortal had acknowledged the order and left without another word. Now, 15 minutes later, he was sitting in seiza in the middle of the spacious room, only wearing his old keikogi bottoms, waiting for Gilgamesh to address him. The room was mostly covered in darkness, the only light came from a bulb right above his head, enveloping him in a circle. Gilgamesh was somewhere within the shadows, watching him, assessing. At last, the older hitman said, “Get up.” and so he did. “You know why you’re here?” “Yes, sir.” “Then you know what you did?” “I failed a critical mission, sir.” “Why?” “I was not good enough.” A powerful hit to his shoulder blades followed. “That is not a clear enough answer.” Gilgamesh said. The Immortal creased his brows, thinking. After a moment, he said, “I was weak to believe they... cared.” The older man nodded, continuing his circle around him. “And what did I tell you about attachments?” “They should not exist.” Another powerful hit followed, this time to his chest. “Then why did you accept them anyway?” The Immortal thought hard, he did, but he did not have an answer for it. Gilgamesh hit him across the face. Stumbling backwards, he caught his balance again, lifting his gaze back to the imaginary point he always used to look at when he was in this room. “Your answer, boy.” “I don’t have an answer, sir. It was not meant to happen.” he said, swallowing hard. “Then what did you mean to happen?” “Fake interest to gain trust. Help them to prove allegiance. Use emotion to make them careless. Then strike.” Gilgamesh hummed. “And yet, it didn’t work. Do you know why?” The Immortal shook his head. “I don’t.” “Would you like to know?” “Yes.” The tip of the old shinai shot out of the darkness and hit his pectoral; right where Drautos had left his mark. “You indulged. You allowed yourself to be compromised. And you never learned how to lie.” Gilgamesh sighed. “I acknowledge my shortcomings in your training of these areas. I don’t fault you for them.” The shinai disappeared into the dark again, before Gilgamesh continued. “What I do fault you for, though, is that you doubted me – perhaps not willingly – but you did. Tell me why?” “They said you were the attacker that night. I was defending them against you. You almost killed me, then took me with you.” “Did they also tell you that you challenged me? That you offered your life for theirs in a fight?” The Immortal frowned. “No.” “One story, two versions. And one broken mind that does not remember the truth.” A hand came up from behind, covering his eyes. “I cannot return your memories, boy. And I cannot remove the doubt from your heart; only you can do that. I can only show you the truth. The truth you learned today: they don’t care. I think you understand?” The Immortal nodded. “I do, sir. And I accept full responsibility for my failure.” “Good, then get ready.” The hand on his eyes disappeared again. “Yes, sir.” The Immortal returned into seiza, watching the other man emerge from the darkness around him to put the old steel collar around his neck, and to tie his hands behind his back – it would help with what was coming next, he knew. Then, Gilgamesh switched off the light above him, and left the room. The door closing was the last noise he heard before absolute darkness and encompassed him fully, the constant hum of an electric current the only sound left. This was where he would remain until his mentor decided otherwise... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I insisted. :D Enjoy...


	16. Clean-up

Sunday was officially done for. Regis was sent to hospital, Clarus took Iris, Noctis and Prompto home and Titus spent the remainder of the day plucking bullets out of the ground and, with the help of Ignis and Gladiolus, removing all traces of what had happened – in the park as well as Cor’s cell. They had all agreed that it was best to not tell anyone about today’s events. After the three men had returned from their chase empty handed, they had looked grim and pulled everyone back to headquarters, telling the others about the other – third – sniper that was watching them. Told them about how Gilgamesh had made an example of Cor, playing them nicely to solidify his influence on the man: the other shooter was hiding somewhere, ready to kill Clarus if they had intervened. He was making things worse as they were given a fake choice between Gladiolus’ father and Cor. And, of course, they told him that Cor had left with the other man. 

The bullet they had removed from Regis’ arm was a regular one – no markings, no designs, whatsoever. Apparently, not even Gilgamesh wanted to be associated with such a petty attack, and that was exactly what this ultimately had been. He had only come for Cor and he had succeeded. They were facing another issue though: the third sniper. Regis had discharged himself immediately, giving the beat cop a quick run-down of the events that had happened, excluding Cor from the whole scenario, and then, he had left with the other men to meet up with Clarus at home. 

When Monday came around, the three men were exhausted. They kept things running with the help of Nyx Ulric, Pelna Khara and Monica Elshett – fortunately, nobody asked questions. Gladiolus and Ignis had taken the kids to a safehouse, receiving the order to remain there until they had sorted out that mess – which was expected to take a long while. The younger men had not agreed and little Iris had been crying because she was still too young to understand why ‘uncle Cor’ had disappeared again. It had been heart-breaking to watch them go. 

Tuesday had been a little better. They had finally managed to remove the last traces of Cor ever having been at headquarters and had handed in their statements for the ‘park shooting’. With Ulric’s help they even managed to pull the case over to their Unit, saying that they would take care of their own – which was not a lie! 

Now, everyone involved was sitting in the conference room, heads down. They had not been talking for the last 20 minutes. “So...” Elshett started, breaking the silence. “Just to get things right: the Immortal is your baby-bro Cor, you captured him, you tried to show him that he’s... what? Part of your family? And he tried to play you to be released? And then you let him out thinking that meeting your kids would sway him?” A collective nod. “Frankly, I fail to see how you expected this to end well.” Elshett saw how the men frowned, evidently not agreeing with her statement. Before Regis could say anything though, she indicated him to remain quiet. “Profiling one-oh-one: a person suffering memory loss from trauma will remain connected to the first thing they are being taught again, compensating for the ‘empty feeling’ until they remember. In the event they don’t, then the new environment will become their foundation of their ‘new’ life. Anything shaking that foundation will be considered a ‘threat’ because the person doesn’t want to lose their memories again. You... idiots... told him that the foundation he built on over the last 20-odd years was a lie. You told him about a life he doesn’t remember, trying to push him into it and expecting him to roll with it.” she took a small sip of water, holding up her hand, indicating that she was not done yet. “I think, this old world-view clashed with the new one, resulting in the man trying to cope by forcefully adhering to whatever boundaries he set himself... or were placed upon him by that Gilgamesh guy. He probably had quite the issues keeping his mind in order. Now, with Gilgamesh having played him into believing you don’t care, you just gave him what he needed: confirmation that the current foundation is the correct one. I would be very surprised if that view can be changed now.” She sighed. “Congratulations, gentlemen. Very well done on ruining the chances of returning that baby-bro of yours.” The men winced. Monica Elshett was a force to be reckoned with. She usually did not get involved in other people’s affairs, at work or outside, but she had a sharp mind and listening to her now was like being slapped in the face with a stone brick. “That kinda sounds right, when you’re saying it that way...” Ulric propped his head onto his palm. “But doesn’t one-oh-one also say that if there is a chance to shake that foundation, it should be attempted?” “It does, but only if the person is stable, and from what you have told me and what I could see on the surveillance, it does not sound like baby-bro Cor is stable.” “What makes you think that? He seemed very stable to us the whole time?” That was Clarus. “Yes, because that is what is expected of him. My educated guess is that he was ‘trained’ to always appear certain, in control, whatever you wanna call it. Bottom line, his demeanour doesn’t reflect his internal thought process. Has he, while being here, every shared anything private about himself with any of you? Anything that involves emotion?” Regis and Clarus looked at each other, frowning, doing this thing they had going for years now – talking to each other without actually talking. Then, Clarus said, “I don’t think so. Nothing he ever said reflected any strong emotion... wait, that moment when Titus told him to ‘behave’ when cleaning his knuckles. Does that count?” Monica hummed thoughtfully. “I am not sure. Perhaps. What happened?” “He threw a temper-tantrum, hurt himself. I cleaned his wounds, telling him that I have better things to do than clean off blood. I don’t see how that connects to what you just said.” “Don’t forget the looks. Titus and Cor totally had a moment there.” Regis recalled with mirth in his voice. “So, he reacts to orders?” “I didn’t order him around.” “Of course not, you’re just your pleasant, friendly and totally emotionally retarded self – how could anything you say ever be perceived as an order?” At that, Ulric snorted into his water bottle. Drautos rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Any other situations?” “No.” the man replied sharply, receiving a cocked brow from his superiors. “There’s nothing else.” he pressed through gritted teeth, crossing his arms in front of his chest – the conversation was finished for him. They did go on for a little while longer, Regis telling Elshett about Cor’s outburst over potentially betraying Gilgamesh – which they never really had expected him to do. 

He barely heard the door open or the steps coming closer. The noise of the electric current the only thing he could hear, ever present to keep him at the edge between sanity and madness, not allowing him any respite. He had lost all sense of time; he did not know how long he had been here. The pain in his legs, arms, stomach and head had melted into one, he was sweating profusely, and his breathing was laboured. He was tired, but the constant noise kept him awake. He was thirsty, but there was no water, there was also no food to quench the churning in his gut. His nose hurt from the sharp smell of urine he had not been able to hold in. He was still sitting in seiza, but his body had fallen forward a little, being held back only by the collar around his neck, pressing painfully onto his Adam’s apple. He did not care. He was not capable of rational thought at this moment. This is why he did not hear the door, or the steps. When the light bulb above him was switched on, he snarled painfully, shutting his eyes so tight he saw stars. His muscles spasmed and he tore against the chain, choking himself until he could barely breathe. He did not notice that the noise had stopped. Something pulled him back into proper position, cutting into the flesh of his throat. Then, the collar was gone and he fell forward again, hitting the wet floor. He did not notice how his restraints were removed, only felt his arms fall limply to his sides. The tingly sensation of blood filling his fingers just added to the overly sensitive body. Slowly, he opened his eyes, but had to shut them again. A hand patted his head and he tried to get up but failed. He was unable to coordinate his arms. It did not appear important though, as the hand pulled his head up a little and then he could feel something cold against his lips. He opened his mouth a fraction and then that same cold entered his mouth – it was water. He drank – tried to, but even that little command was difficult to execute. He choked on the water when he was unable to keep up with swallowing, water going down the wrong pipe. The water disappeared, leaving him to cough and catch his breath. Finally, he registered that it was silent, truly and blissfully silent. He breathed in and forced his arms to work. Exhaling, he pressed his palms onto the wet floor, pushing up. A guiding hand helped him to sit properly, back straight. Then, “Who are you?” “N-no... body.” He swallowed and tried again, louder, clearer. “Nobody.” “Who do you belong to?” “You.” “What do you do with targets?” “Kill.” Gilgamesh placed his hand back onto his head, carding through the greasy hair. “I have given you your life. And that life is mine to take. You better remember that. Now...” A moment of pause. “... you may return to your rooms. Clean yourself, then eat, then sleep. In that order. Understood?” “Yes, sir.” he pressed out and when the hand on his head disappeared, he tried to get up. Slowly, he moved his legs, but they were so wobbly, that he fell face first down onto the urine covered floor again. When the second attempt did not prove any better, Gilgamesh took pity on him, grabbed his arm and pulled him up. Together, they made their way back to the Immortal’s private rooms. 

“Ulric!” The man tensed up when he heard his Captain yell across the floor. Khara, next to him, chuckled amused. “What did you do now?” “Not sure... but should I not return. My porn stash is all yours.” “Awww... so sweet.” Khara hollered after Ulric’s retrieving form. When he entered Drautos’ office, the man was scanning over a report. “What’s up, Captain?” The man beckoned the younger agent to close the door and take a seat. While doing what he was instructed, the other man asked, “Anything new in the Ulldor case?” Frowning, Ulric nodded. “Well, did you not read my report. I put it on your desk yesterday.” “Ulric, a report does not consist of and I quote ‘those asshole soldiers have their sticks pretty far up their arses to not be talking to sweet old me’.” “Come now, Captain, it’s true though. Not one single soldier was willing to give anything away! It’s like they’re sworn to secrecy by death or something... neither Pelna nor I were successful. And since Crowe... well... we don’t have anyone else to sweet talk those striped fuckers.” The Captain cocked a brow – he was not impressed. “You wrote that you want to keep the case open. You think there is still something going on!” It was not a question; Ulric nodded. “That’s what my gut’s telling me. But I can’t find out what it is. They don’t even let me onto the premises without some watchdog.” The Captain nodded in understanding. “What if you had the opportunity to do so?” Ulric’s face lit up and he threw a cheeky smile at the other man. “30 minutes alone with someone who worked closely with Ulldor will be enough. Or, a computer, that would work too. If you know how to get me that, I’ll write you the most amazing report you’ll ever read.” “I would already be glad if you wrote a ‘regular’ report properly. Meet me tomorrow at oh-five-hundred in front of the office. Dismissed.” Clapping his hands like some child, the young agent left the office, shutting the door a little too forcefully, leaving the man behind the desk to his paperwork. 

Drautos sighed and dropped the paper he was holding. It had been a week since Gilgamesh had retrieved Cor and he could not shake that uneasy feeling he had had since. The look the other man had given him haunted him night after night, keeping his sleeping pensum to a bare minimum. He was not supposed to feel uneasy – he barely knew the man; 12 days were not that long. Yet, there was no denying that they had gotten along, somewhat. Even with that tension between them. He had thought it was just a one-time-only thing; something that would be gone, once out of their systems. But when he had walked away from Cor’s cell that day, seeing the man’s retching body hanging over the toilet, it had hurt – it was not mean to hurt. He had not expected anything to come out of it, he was not a fool, but the hitman’s reaction was a low blow nonetheless. He had stared at the bright screen which was showing the inside of Cor’s cell, his mind racing. He had felt so fucking stupid. That night he had tried to get drunk, but failed. Knowing it would not help anyway... 

And then, Gilgamesh showed up to take him back. Forcing them to remain quiet in favour of Clarus’ life. Cor did not see a thing with his back turned to them. Did not see the other man signalling them he had ‘won’. He only heard that bastard’s voice telling Cor they did not care. Gilgamesh had played them, had played him. But it did not matter; Cor would probably not listen to them again. He had to admit that Elshett had been right about how they had approached the whole matter. They had mixed up professional and private life – causing more damage than actually fixing anything. Yet, they had hoped. And he had to admit to himself that he had started believing in Regis’ and Clarus plan. Alright, perhaps he did care... a little. Drautos let out an unimpressed grunt. He wanted to know if the other man had played him; needed to know. 

The Captain sighed again. No point in contemplating now. He had a job to do. There was still something in the bushes, he agreed with Ulric on that. And they needed to know Gilgamesh’s ultimate target. It was no coincidence that Aldercapt, Ulldor and Claustra had died. They all had ties to one another, but there was still a missing link as to the ‘what’. The man picked up his phone and dialled Regis’ number. “Hey. I need a favour...” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gen hates me, but I have fun torturing Cor. And I think I am making Nyx look like an idiot... Enjoy. :)


	17. ARL and other military business

Drautos had picked up Ulric at exactly oh-five-hundred hours in front of the Glaives’ headquarters. The younger man had done a double-take when he saw the Captain. Unlike his usual double-breasted suit, he was donning a military uniform. With a breathy 'holy shit’ the coffee he had been sipping on went straight into the trash bin – not needed any longer. Wordlessly, he got into the car, staring wide-eyed at his Captain – what did two stars mean again? When Drautos had enough, he barked at Ulric to get a grip and told him their schedule for the day: take the jet, fly over to the Army Research Lab in Adelphi, speak to an old acquaintance, get Ulric the time he needed to get his answers. During the whole drive, Ulric was quietly listening to the Captain explaining what was going to happen once they arrived at ARL and the younger man had nodded attentively. In turn, Ulric had told him what he needed. Either, an unlocked computer, or some guy who worked under Ulldor. At that, the older man had thrown him a questioning glance but did not say anything. They did not talk about the fact that Drautos was wearing a Major General’s uniform. 

The flight had taken them roughly two and a half hours plus an additional hour to get to ARL. The Captain had bypassed security checkpoints easily, showing them his ID, leaving Ulric amazed once more. When they got out of the car, Drautos threw him one last glance of warning before he started walking – wherever he was headed. The younger man followed, keeping an eye on the soldiers around them and found, with surprise, that many of the seniors stared at the Captain. Oh, this was going to be good! 

“Well, I’ll be damned. If it isn’t Titus Drautos.” a voice hollered and both men turned their heads. A woman with silver hair was smiling at them, walking with long strides towards the Captain. “Come here, you big grizzly.” And with that, the woman threw her arms around Drautos, giving him a hug – and the man did not even bother to do anything about that! In his periphery, Ulric could see that he was not the only idiot staring at the two people. When they parted, the woman turned around and hollered, “You ain’t here for a peep show, soldiers. Get moving!” And they did. “Seems everyone is still scared of you, Highwind.” Drautos said – was that a smile? The woman turned around again and shrugged. “I learned from the best.” Drautos shook his head sharply and the woman just nodded, indicating them to follow her. Once inside a break-out room, she started again. “Now... what do I owe this surprise visit to? And who is the pipsqueak?” “Nyx Ulric, supervisory special agent, Glaives.” Then, he turned to the younger man, “General Aranea Highwind. We used to work together years ago.” “Hi, nice meeting ya.” Ulric said, smiling, regarding the woman for a moment. She was not as old as the Captain was, but she had defined hard lines on her face that were proof of an experienced life on the battlefield. The way her body shifted told him that she was not someone to beat around the bush and that she could certainly dish out if necessary. “Oh, look Titus, your pup is trying to analyse me.” she said a little amused about that, while the other man just shrugged. “I would fire him if he didn’t.” “Gee, thanks Captain. Love you too! I am just impressed there is actually someone who knows you outside of work.” Turning to Highwind, he continued, “This guy is keeping his secrets better than Fort Knox its gold.” “Well... he was always good at that. But it’s good to see that he found a place he belongs to.” “Whatever. That’s not why we’re here. Care to help us out with some investigations?” “You just caught my attention.” With a smile on her lips, she sat down and listened to Drautos explaining what they had come for. 

They had talked quite some time; the Captain explaining the connections between the deaths of Aldercapt, Ulldor and Claustra, the involvement of ‘some’ hitmen and the obstacles they had been facing when investigating further into Ulldor’s life. Highwind had been able to tell them why: apparently, he had been working together with one Verstael Besithia, the top scientist of the research facility, some rising star. All information was sealed away as ‘top secret’, needing level 5 clearance. So, they plotted out a plan to get what they needed to continue the investigation. Currently, Drautos and Ulric were alone in the break-out room, waiting for Highwind to clear out her schedule for today, so they could focus on the task at hand. “So, Captain... or should I rather say Major General?” “Cut the crap, Ulric.” The younger man groaned in disappointment. “Seriously? You’re still not going to tell what you did before you joined?” “If that isn’t obvious, then I taught you poorly.” Ulric snorted. “You didn’t. But there is more to those two stars on your shoulder. You and also Miss Highwind are way too young for your respective positions. That surely is no coincidence.” The older man shrugged, a small smile gracing his lips, infuriating the younger agent, making him pull his braids. “This is so not cool, Captain! Nope!” “Aw, is the pup upset that grizzly is not sharing again?” Turning around, Ulric put on his best puppy-dog-eyes and Highwind had to laugh. “Try dark chocolate-covered raisins. That should work like a spell.” Drautos rolled his eyes at how excitedly Ulric jumped off his chair to pry some more information out of the woman, but she did not budge. “Here you go, some temp-passes. But I am not quite sure how to get you the information you are looking for without drawing attention. It’s not like you are easy to hide, grizzly.” “I'll be fine. Ulric will be doing the sneaking.” “Oh please, let me at them.” the younger man hollered, and they did... 

20 minutes later, Highwind and Drautos found themselves in Besithia’s office, waiting for the man himself to take some time out of his ‘very busy schedule’ to speak to them. When he finally showed, both of them stood in greeting. Highwind had warned him already that the man would be terrible to deal with and he was not surprised when the old git turned out to be an arrogant and narcistic bastard who thought he was better than most people on this planet. He even looked the part of psycho-researcher. He was just missing the proverbial monster and the picture of the evil overlord would be complete. “General, what a pleasure and who is that if I may ask?” “Major General Titus Drautos. I am sure you heard of him?” The old man gave the Captain an appreciative once-over before he hummed. “I do, indeed. You were leading multiple covert operations into warzones, killing people on American payroll, didn’t you? How does it feel to kill your own men? What was it again, your undercover name... Glauca, right?” Drautos inhaled deeply, forcing himself to remain unimpressed. “I did what I was told to do.” “Yes, yes. Don’t we all?” What a sleezy, slimy bastard. “So, what may I help you with?” “As you may be aware, one of your Generals was killed; Ulldor. I was wondering if you could give me a few pointers on the man’s life. What was he doing? Did he do anything that may compromise your work...” “Ulldor was a colleague, but I do not know much about him. See... we don’t speak, we work.” Besithia interrupted the other man nonchalant. He was glad that Highwind cut in, otherwise he would have definitely throttled the man right then and there. “Would you mind showing us around, perhaps? His workplace?” Moving a little in her chair, Highwind crossed her arms, ‘accidentally’ popping one of her shirt buttons open. “Of course, we won’t take anything away or look into any confidential documents. General’s promise.” Drautos did not know how she did it, but it worked like a charm. He also felt a new level of disgust for this man – and that only within five minutes; that was a new record! “Very well, General. I might be able to help out a... friend. I am sure you will be able to return the favour.” Highwind gave the man a sweet yet deadly smile and they all left the office. Mere moments later, the window opened and Nyx Ulric climbed through, humming quietly the 'Mission Impossible’ intro... 

When he woke up, he lay in his bed. His body hurt; inside and out. Sitting up slowly, he tried to remember how he got here. When he came up with nothing, he sighed. What was it with him always forgetting the most crucial moments before going dark? “How are you feeling boy?” He turned his head so quickly that it cracked painfully and he cringed. Gilgamesh was sitting in the chair next to the small desk that was covered with empty bullet cartridges. He chuckled quietly, got up and walked over, placing a plate with sandwiches into his lap. Then he sat at the end of the bed, waiting patiently until the younger man had recovered again. “I feel... good?!” he said, confusion written all over his face. He closed his eyes and focussed on himself. “It’s quiet.” “You sound confused.” “I am. I expected... something. But there is nothing.” Gilgamesh nodded. “Do you feel at ease?” “Yes.” he grabbed one of the sandwiched and took a bite of it – chicken with cucumber and tomatoes. A small groan escaped him. “You must be hungry. Eat your fill. And drink. You did good. I’m proud of you.” At that, the younger man looked up. “I failed, and yet you say that.” “Because it’s true. You should know by now that I don’t say anything that’s not worth saying.” He nodded; he knew better indeed. “I will go back down and clean up later.” “No need. I already did it.” Now, that was new. “Boy, you know why I had to do what I did, don’t you?” He nodded. “I failed you. I let an opportunity slip. I was not good enough.” “You’ll learn from your mistakes and move on. That’s all that matters.” Gilgamesh threw him the bottle and he caught it with ease, a little surprised about that himself that his reflexes worked. “Tell me boy, what do you want to do now?” Emptying half of the bottle in one go, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, thinking. Then, “The mission needs to be completed. I have two targets to neutralize.” He did not see the older man’s triumphant smile behind the mask. “First, you rest. Take as long as you need. Then, we’ll clean up and finish this once and for all.” “Yes, sir.” 

It had taken him 17 minutes before he managed to get access to the main servers through Besithia’s laptop. Pelna and Monica had supported him remotely and now, he was browsing through different files, taking pictures with his phone because – of course – everything had to be copy-protected. He understood little of the medical data he saw, but he was able to read bank statements, and those numbers were dizzying. He had almost not clicked on the file they were saved in because it was labelled ‘Haribo’ but then he had, because who named a folder that way? And jackpot; Nyx smiled. If that guy had any skeletons in his closet, he would find at least a few. Now, Nyx was flipping through some of the paper files in the top drawer, taking a picture of the first page, when, suddenly, there was commotion outside the door. He let the files fall back into place and flipped the lid of the laptop shut. He already wanted to jump through the window when at that moment a group of recruits walked past. When someone knocked at the door, he did the next best thing he could do. 

“Enter.” When the door opened a young man stepped in and saluted him. "Private Hanson reporting for physical, sir.” “Physical?” “Physical assessment, doctor Crawford, at fifteen-hundred hours, sir. Do you not have been notified, sir?” Nyx let his phone slip into the pocket of the white gown he had put on, noticing the missing name plate and started smiling. Oh, this would be fun. “I am... doctor House. Doctor Crawford is currently unavailable.” He walked around the desk and stood in front of the young soldier, who did look slightly confused. “Physical you say? I think I can help with that. Let’s go the medical wing, shall we?” He turned Private Hanson around, threw an arm around his shoulder and walked out of Besithia’s office. When the two men turned around the corner into the main hall, they almost ran into Highwind and the two men, but Nyx managed to bee-line around them, earning himself a raised eyebrow from his Captain. Without a word, Nyx continued dragging the younger man down the hall. 

The tour Besithia had given them was boring. Of course, he had shown them Ulldor’s office and they had looked at anything non-confidential, but it became quickly evident that someone had already cleaned out his workplace. Everything that might have been useful was gone. He just hoped that Ulric would find something. When they were done with the ‘sightseeing’, two men almost bumped into them and he realized one looked very much like Ulric – in fact, it was him, donning a white lab coat. They had shared a quick glance before the younger man had dragged the Private off to some place. Once Besithia was done with his speech about how devoted he was to research, Highwind and Drautos had left, trying to find their missing ‘pup’. They found a slightly dishevelled Ulric leave a small storage room, a big smile on his face. Highwind had simply laughed about the young man being so brazen. Drautos was just more certain in his assumption that, if the devil had a smile, it would be the same as Ulric’s. The young man had given both a quick update on what he had found out from the Private and shared the pictures he had taken with them before they decided it was best to leave and action on anything once they were out of Besithia’s reach. With that, Drautos and Ulric had made their way back. 

They were currently sitting in the company jet that Regis had provided them with. Both men had dialled into a conference call with the remaining members of their little group. Drautos had rid himself off the uniform jacket and thrown it onto an empty seat. To the question if he did not care about it, he simply replied with a ‘no’. “It might take some time to understand what these data mean, but looking at these bank transfers, I would say you found something, Nyx.” Elshett said, then, “This looks very much like something fishy is going on that we should certainly look into. I recognize one of these account names, it’s registered under Claustra’s name.” “Also, don’t forget about what the Private said; they are testing soldiers’ physical abilities to take part in some trials to enhance combat abilities... or something like that.” Ulric added thoughtfully. Regis hummed, “Should we assume that Besithia may be on the hitlist, then?” “It is justified. Let us look further into these transfers first and, if push comes to shove, we will put him under surveillance. Agent Khara, will you take care of this, seeing that Besithia has already met Titus. I don’t want him to assume anything, so we also better keep agent Ulric out of this.” Clarus said, thinking. “Sure thing, Boss. I’ll get to it right away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had an easy work-training-week. Thus, I was able to punch out a few more chapters... enjoy.


	18. Domesticity among killers

The first few days he had just stayed in bed; only gotten up when he needed to relieve himself or eat and drink. He had spent his time thinking, or rather, not. First, he had not noticed it, but he felt empty, unable to focus properly. Assuming it to be the aftershocks of his punishment, he did not pay too much attention to it. On the fifth day he did start wondering though: he expected himself to be angry, or feel hurt, or something – would that not be the natural reaction? He turned off the shower and stepped out, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his hips. He stopped in front of the mirror and wiped at the fogged-up glass. The man in the mirror looked fine; no blood-shot eyes and skin a healthy colour. The only thing that stood out were the green-yellow marks from where Gilgamesh had hit him with the shinai. He stepped out of the small bathroom, when his senses told him that he was not alone. Gilgamesh had left days ago, there was nobody meant to be here but him. He made his way towards the door and listened; someone was walking around inside their safehouse. Opening his door slowly, he peered out into the corridor. He could hear someone humming a melody – it came from downstairs: the kitchen. He walked down the stairs and turned the corner, walking straight into the kitchen, ready to attack. And so, he did. The person – who wore a fedora inside a house – in front of him did not even pay him any attention, busy with something he could not see. When he grabbed the other person’s shoulder, he forced the other into a choke-hold, a high-pitched yelp escaping the man’s lips. “Give me one reason not to end you!” The Immortal snarled, pulling his arms together to effectively press into the other man’s throat. The fedora fell and revealed a mop of maroon-coloured hair... wait a moment. Turning the man a little, he recognized the sharp features and groaned. The other man just smiled innocently and was released. “What are you doing here?” Shooting the other man another look, he continued, “And what are you wearing?” “Oh, hello dear brother. How are you doing? I am fine by the way, and this...” The man pulled at the lapels of the large coat he was donning. “Is the latest fashion in Europe.” Nothing... the man snorted disapprovingly. “Come now, relax, daddy-oh is not around, live a little.” “What are you doing here, Adagium?” “Ardyn.” “What?” “Ardyn. I decided I wanted a name, so I picked one.” The man who named himself ‘Ardyn,’ bowed politely. “Ardyn Izunia, the Adagium. That doesn’t sound too shabby, if you ask me.” At that, the younger man did react. Incredulously, he asked, “A name? For what?” “Well, for what? To be addressed by people of course. I can’t really tell them that I am ‘the Adagium’. They would start running away, screaming. Where’s the fun in that?” Ardyn took a step closer to him, leaning a little into the Immortal’s space. “And a little bird told me that you got a name too.” He tensed, pulling his arms up and crossing them in front of his chest. “I don’t.” he replied. “Oh, really? And then why did daddy-dearest put you into detention for almost five days?” He knew Ardyn had the answer to his own question. The man was just annoying him on purpose – as he always did when they crossed paths. “Because I failed a mission. You know that already, don’t you? Did he call you?” Ardyn leaned back, giving him some space again and turned around to continue what he was doing before being interrupted by the younger man. “He did indeed. Said, you might have been compromised.” Turning around to the other man, Ardyn pointed his finger at him. “Can you imagine how shocked I was to hear that daddy’s prodigal son might have gone rogue? Of course, I had to come and see it for myself. Sandwich?” The Immortal nodded and walked towards one of the chairs, sitting down. “You’re being dramatic. I screwed up; it won’t happen again.” He could hear Ardyn hum and then a plate was set in front of him. “Does he know about your name thing?” The other hitman barked out an amused laugh. “Of course not. If he knew, I would be next in line for detention. Unlike you, I don’t do pain too well.” Again, no response. “Seriously, chill grumpy-pants. You’re way to tense.” “I’m fine.” he replied taking a bite. “You don’t look fine. And don’t give me that look. I can see when my brother is not doing well.” “Just because we used to train together doesn’t mean we’re brothers.” Ardyn covered his mouth with a hand, fake shock covering his features. “How rude. And here I was thinking the time away from him would help with that prickly attitude of yours.” The Immortal threw him a deadly glare. “How long have you been here exactly?” The other shrugged, smiling. “Some time.” How the other always managed to annoy him so quickly was a mystery. He wanted to take another bite... but froze midway. He felt annoyed. Locking eyes with Ardyn, he could see the man smiling. “Feeling better now, darling?” he asked, knowing full well what he had achieved. Sighing, the Immortal put the sandwich down. His gaze moved from his food back to the other hitman. “I feel annoyed about you.” “And how did you feel the last couple of days?” He shrugged and said, “I felt... nothing.” The other hitman propped his head into his palm, looking at him sympathetically. “And how did you feel around them?” The Immortal scowled deeply and got up stiffly. He was not meant to feel anything. Wordlessly, he left the kitchen, heading towards his rooms, he was not hungry anymore. 

The Immortal spent the rest of the day in his bed, ignoring the churning in his gut. He was hungry, but he did not want to talk to the other hitman again. Ardyn, as he liked to call himself apparently, had always been good with reading other people. He had been the black sheep of their little weird ‘family’, rebellious to the last breath – ever defiant. When he had finally had enough, he had left to find his own place in the world. Gilgamesh had let him go – even if it felt more like he had thrown him out. Every now and then, they would cross paths and catch-up. And every time, he had asked him to leave as well. The answer had always been the same: no. Gilgamesh had once told him that Ardyn had been a mistake, a failure and he had believed it. Now, he was not so sure anymore. The man saw things others did not see. He was very perceptive and he was able to connect with people on a much more personal level than he could ever do. That was what had earned him the moniker of ‘Adagium’. His kills hit much closer to the heart, they were devastating and utterly destroying – physically and mentally – to not just his targets but also to those associated to them. He thrived off emotions, always using them as the basis for his kills – which always were messy massacres. The Adagium was like a ghost that could not be exorcised... and he was not subtle at all – the exact opposite of what Gilgamesh wanted. A loud rumble from his stomach made him focus on the here and now again. Scowling, he sat up, he needed to get food whether or not he liked it. He also was no coward; he could put up with Ardyn. Perhaps, it was not so bad to have some company for a while. The Immortal scrambled out of bed and grabbed a fresh set of clothes from the drawers. Five minutes later, he left his room and went down the stairs, glancing at the training hall – the other hitman was sprawled across two chairs, reading a book. He walked over. “Look, who's still alive. My, oh my...” Without looking up from his book, Ardyn waved at him. “He back already?” “Nope, still out there.” He nodded, regarding the man with the maroon-coloured hair for a moment. “Want to grab a bite?” At that, Ardyn closed his book at once and looked up, smiling like a Cheshire cat. “I knew you care.” “No, you simply cook better than I do.” was the swift response, his lips curling just the tiniest bit before it disappeared again. Not even five minutes later, the two men were in the kitchen, chopping fresh vegetables and meat for their dinner. 

“You know, I never understood why you stayed.” “I am aware.” Ardyn groaned dramatically. “And you’re not going to tell me anytime soon... I know.” he said, plopping another piece of chicken into his mouth. “But seriously... you need to relax. You look like you’ve got a pretty thick stick up your arse, if you ask me.” “I didn’t, but thanks for the insight.” “Grouchy... but I mean it, you look like you need a good ploughing.” Blue eyes looked up and glared at amber ones. “What? Don’t look at me like that. I care, really do! And from the looks of it, there is someone else who does.” “There’s nobody.” he said, wondering once more how the other hitman knew these things; he should not know this. “I was there, you know. I saw your interaction with that man in the park; that was not ‘nothing’. Heh, I knew you’d go for the muscly sturdy ones.” He let his gaze fall to the side. “You are wrong.” “Ah, ah, ah... see: you avoiding this tells li’l ol’ me that I am right.” Ardyn practically beamed at him. “That, and your ears are red!” Before he could stop himself, one hand came up to his right ear. When the other man’s smile just grew, he knew he had been played. “You want to talk about it?” “No.” “Come on, do I have to pull everything out of your nose? You really are one grouchy brother.” “We’re not brothers. And there is nothing to talk about.” Why did he feel a sense of déjà-vu? Dramatically, the maroon-haired hitman lifted his arm and let his hand cover his eyes. Sniffing, as if he were crying, he said, “My own brother cast me out. Will we ever be able to connect again?” Then, he slammed his fist onto the table. “I shan't despair yet. Blood is thicker than water – love will prevail.” The Immortal just rolled his eyes and continued eating while the other man acted out whatever fantasy he was living in right about now. 

While they had finished their food and cleaned up, Ardyn and he had continued their little bickering. It had been refreshing and he had started to even smile a little. The 'empty’ feeling he had felt started to fade in favour of a comfortable warmth – he stubbornly ignored the fact that it felt very similar to what he had felt with those three men around. That was, until Gilgamesh had returned and found them in the kitchen. He had not said anything, but he had given them this one unmistakable look that told both men that he was not amused. Afterwards, everyone had disappeared to their rooms. Now, he lay on his bed, unable to sleep, thinking – apparently, the little chat with the other man had done some wonders to his mood; or initial lack thereof. He looked around in his room; it reminded him very much of the cell he had been in when they had caught him. The Immortal frowned, why was he thinking that; he should not be comparing these two things with each other. This was not a cell, he could leave whenever he wanted, do whatever he wanted. Why did he feel so confined then? He growled displeased. He should seriously not be thinking like this – this was the place where he belonged. The Immortal rolled onto his left, using his arm as a cushion, back facing the door. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply: in, out, repeat. After a moment, he caught himself rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip, so, he moved his right arm to his stomach. Growling again, he moved his arm onto his thigh. “Fuck!” He turned onto his back again, pulling his legs up – no position he chose was comfortable right now. Even the one he was in now; it reminded him too much of what Drautos and he had done after their little sparring session. Something in his stomach fluttered in a funny way when the memory pressed to the forefront of his mind. He knew he should not do it – not even think it – yet, he wanted... 

His hand was between his legs without any conscious effort, squeezing and rubbing his cock through the thick fabric of his black keikogi bottoms. It was too much, yet it was not enough. If Gilgamesh were to come through that door now, he would throw him right back into the cellar for another session. He should stop. He remembered the question the Captain had asked him – if he always did as he was told. “I am my own man.” he snarled angrily and pulled his clothes down. Grabbing the tip of his cock he wrapped his fingers around it and pulled down. He let his hand move up, and then pulled down again, this time with a little more force. Repeating this motion a few more times made him question the efficiency of his actions; it did not feel the same as when Drautos had done it. He scowled. Perhaps, if he focussed on how the other man’s hand had felt? He closed his eyes and recalled what they had done on the mats: how a rough hand had pinched his nipples – his left hand moved from behind his head, pulled up his shirt and grabbed his pectoral; the thumb rubbing over the small bud. He thought about how the other’s hand had fondled him – his left joined the first and grabbed his balls roughly, first pulling, then squeezing. He gasped, hips bucking automatically. There it was, that feeling he was waiting for. His right twisted around the cockhead, pulling at the foreskin with thumb and middle finger while the index finger pressed into the slit of his glans. It felt wet. “Fuck...” He bit his lip to keep quiet. The burning sensation was painful, but he did not stop. He smeared the precum over the glans and onto his shaft, but it did not do much to soothe the pain – frankly, at this point, the pain just mixed with the building pleasure. A few rough strokes later and he cummed, throwing his head back, the name of Titus Drautos never escaping his lips. Mere moments later, he looked at his soiled hand, scowling, muttering, “Punishment wasn’t effective after all!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gen told me it was a sin not to have Ardyn included........... enjoy. :)


	19. Balance

Another week had gone by since Gilgamesh had taken Cor back. They had expected bodies to start dropping once the younger man had returned, but it had been awfully quiet. And the team was antsy, to say the least. They had spent the whole time digging around in those bank transfers while Khara and Ulric had kept a close eye on Besithia without getting noticed. The information the observation had collected was scarce – the man practically lived off his work, so the two men had started feeling up the people around him – literally. There was a bar which was frequented regularly by the soldiers stationed at ARL and they used it as their ‘hunting ground’. Some of the higher ranked officers had been easy to talk to and pry information from when drunk, allowing the whole group to create quite the picture of what was actually going on. 

Once again, the group was sitting in the conference room; on a Friday evening, after everyone else had gone home – this was the new ‘normal’ for them, apparently. “Alright, let’s put the pieces together. We have Verstael Besithia, head of some new combat improvement research at ARL, he is testing something on people to improve strength and stamina. He and Ulldor have been working together on the project, but the latter seems to have been selling this information out. Leaving Claustra as the overseeing politician who handled the payments between all involved parties.” Regis summarized thoughtfully, using the flipchart as support to pin pictures and draw arrows to establish relationships between all victims. “Seeing that our hitman-duo is after these guys, we can be certain that Besithia is on their list as well. We will have to add him to the protection programme – no matter if the man is a bastard or not.” Clarus added with an unhappy sigh. “That’ll be an issue. The military won’t let outsiders protect one of their own. Not someone as high-ranked as him.” Drautos grabbed his water bottle and took a gulp, but almost choked on it when he heard Ulric’s reply. “But that’s what we’ve got you for, no? Just put that dashing uniform you have back on and I am sure they will be all happy.” “Ulric, you do remember what I said about punching you, right?” “Yes, why?” “You’re practically begging for it right now.” Regis laughed quietly, before lifting his arms in a soothing motion. “Gentlemen, please. But I do agree with Nyx, Titus. You are one of them.” The Captain rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “We could also just let them kill Besithia. Something tells me, nobody would miss him.” “Titus... no. We do not kill or let people die. Even if we don’t like them!” The other just shrugged and returned Regis’ look. “Actually...” Clarus started, “... that’s not such a bad idea.” “Clarus?!” “Hear me out first, Reggie. We know Gilgamesh will go after Besithia. We could use it to our advantage to get to them. Maybe set a trap of some sort?” At that, Elshett joined the conversation: “If you are thinking of talking to your baby-bro, you will have to make sure he listens. I doubt he will be willing to stop and chat just like that, you don’t have any proof to back up your accusations. If anything, I am expecting him to act as if he doesn’t care, worst case, he just loses it. He might want to forcefully complete his mission and try killing you too.” Regis nodded. “It can go either way, you are right Miss Elshett, but I would like to give it a try though. If... you all agree to move forward with this decision. I know you already have lost family...” “Boss... it’s fine. Technically, it wasn’t him who killed Crowe, so, we’ll give the man a good beating and then move on to Gilgamesh.” Ulric interrupted with a devilish smile on his face, Khara nodded in agreement. Regis could not supress a heart-warming smile. His unit was truly like a big family. 

With a game plan put together, they had started setting things in motion. Drautos had called up Highwind to inform her of their next steps. She had agreed to set up an official meeting between Besithia and the heads of the Glaives. Ulric and the others had compiled the information they needed to back up their actions, making sure they kept some in the backhand in case they needed leverage on the man. On the day of the meeting with Besithia, the team was ready... “You truly look like a General, Titus. I am sure Cor would appreciate the looks too.” Regis whispered amused, earning himself a gruff rumble. “Don’t you have anything else to think about than my uniform?” “Not at the moment, no.” Drautos closed his eyes, contemplating if it was worth killing his friend now or to wait until later. Then the other man’s words caught up with him. “Wait, what did you just say?” The door slammed open and two young men entered, saluting and then waiting for Verstael Besithia to enter as well. “Major General Glauca... I mean Drautos, what a pleasure to see you again... and your acquaintances.” Regis and Clarus stood, nodding, ignoring the asshole’s words purposefully. “Regis Lucis Caelum, head of the independent FBI unit Glaives, this is Clarus Amicitia, my advisor.” Holding out his hand, he waited for Besithia to shake it, but the man did not bother and simply sat into his chair. “I know who you are, Gentlemen. And I also know why you’re here. I only came by to tell you that I’m not interested in anything you have to offer. See: these two young men here...” He indicated at the two blonde men standing in parade rest. “... are going to be my bodyguards. I don’t need any of yours. Especially since mine are much better trained.” The brow above Regis’ eye twitched by a small fraction before he lowered his hand and sat back down. “I’m certain your men are capable of fighting opponents off, but I would like to remind you that we’re not dealing with the average killers here. These men are highly dangerous and they also have military-grade training.” “I read your file, and I say let them come. It will be good training practice for these two. Tummelt. Fleuret.” Both blondes clicked their heels once and took a step forward. “These two have just finished their enhanced combat training. I doubt some filthy hitman will make it past them.” “Then keep your dogs on a short leash, Besithia. All we want is to remain on the premises and do our jobs.” The scientist regarded Drautos with an unreadable look before he sighed and got up. “Do what you must, but don’t get in my way.” With that, the man and his ‘guards’ left. Clarus growled. “What an unpleasant man.” “As I said. It’s tempting to let him die...” “At least we got what we came for.” Regis added, stretching in his chair before he got up as well. “Let’s make the best of our situation. If he doesn’t want protection, that’s his decision. We have work to do.” Agreeing, the trio left the meeting room and made their way towards the larger break-out room General Highwing had booked for them. 

He was desperate and close to asking his mentor to put him back into detention. He had had enough of it all – he wanted to stop feeling again. After his late-night jerk-off, he had felt everything but ‘at ease’. It was as if the conversation with Ardyn had opened some backdoor through which all those unwanted memories and feelings had escaped. No, he could not blame it all on the other man – he had done it on purpose; making his own decision. Even if he felt like he broke another taboo. He never had any issues with unwanted physiological reactions, rarely needed to masturbate – in fact, he had not felt the need for it for years now – his conditioning having extinguished that desire long ago. But now, he felt like some pubescent child, hormones all over the place, unable to control his own body’s reactions. This was ridiculous. He had spent the whole day tormenting the heavy-bag, his knuckles bloody and his shins bruised. The bullet wound in his thigh was also starting to act up again, but he could not care less. He needed to stop thinking – feeling. Around midnight, Gilgamesh had ordered him to stop; commanded him to clean the place and himself up and then they would have a talk. So, here they were, in the training hall with him sitting in seiza and Gilgamesh assessing him quietly. “Why are you so out of control?” He grit his teeth, refusing to tell the older man the truth. “Don’t make me repeat the question, boy!” He knew what would happen if Gilgamesh had to repeat the question, he did not fancy that. So, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath in, he started, “I cannot forget what happened. I cannot be ignorant about it – I want to, but the quiet, the peace; it’s gone.” Gilgamesh nodded. “I want it to stop. But I don’t know how...” he snarled, the frown on his face showing his disgust. “There is only one way to stop it, boy. You have to remove the source of those memories, those feelings.” A pause. “Attachments, once made, are difficult to sever. I always warned you about that. You refused to listen, and got entangled into something beyond your control.” “I know what I must do, sir. And I won’t hesitate to kill them. But... I feel like I will fail if I don’t get those... emotions under control.” A quiet hum. “And now you ask for my help!” Blue eyes met the almost red ones of his mentor. “Please...” Without another word, Gilgamesh walked over to the door of the training hall and closed it, but not before he threw a warning glare at the man sitting on the stairs. Ardyn shook his head, stood and made his way back up the stairs, not quite happy about what he had just overheard. 

When the doors to the training hall opened again, the Immortal limped out of it, shirt hanging in rags. His training shorts were bloody and ripped. His skin covered in angry red streaks and black bruises. His pupils narrowed down to tiny orbs, the blue merely a faint shade of their original colour. His face void of emotion. His mind... tranquil. 

“Alright. If I have to listen to one more word from that mad-man, I will start dropping bodies myself.” Ulric groaned. The last few days had been hell... literally. Besithia had given them permission to remain on the premisses, thus, they had set up camp. Unfortunately, the man and his two watchdogs came by every so often, simply to see if they were not willing to give up and leave; asking them irritating questions and providing stupid comments – begging for a fight. While Besithia was busy feeling up their Captain – calling him a ‘fine specimen’ to work on – he and Khara were busy fending off the two blondes; Ravus Nox Fleuret and Loqi Tummelt. All three men were only able to take so much before blowing a casket. Ulric and Khara already nearing their limit. “I dunno how the Captain can ignore all the shit that guy’s talking or doing. If I were him, I would have already snapped that mummy’s neck.” “You see, that’s why he’s the Captain and you’re not.” Khara threw him a can of soda, opening his own and plopping into the chair next to his colleague. “Yeah, but still... also, I think this guy really knows more than he lets on. I heard him address the Captain with ‘Glauca’ multiple times now, always by ‘accident’ – as if. I’m telling you, there is some history there that’s just begging to be uncovered.” Khara laughed. “Yeah, and when you do, he’ll probably kill you.” “That’d be worth it...” he whispered, earning a funny stare from the other man. “You need to get your priorities straight, Nyx.” “If that day comes, then I will happily resign, Khara.” Drautos’ voice made both men jump and yelp. How was it possible that such a tall and heavy man could be this quiet when walking? “I swear, Captain. You must’ve been a ninja in your previous life. Nobody can sneak around this quietly.” “If I were sneaking, you wouldn’t know what hit you, Ulric. Where are Regis and Clarus?” “They are walking the perimeter again. Checking on the safety points.” The Captain nodded. 

It was their seventh day at base. The soldiers were annoyed, even if they did not show it, everyone knew there was animosity. Drautos and Highwind had to split up more than a couple of fights between the Glaives and the recruits and it only worked because the two were quite scary in their own way. The little group of profilers had spent the days checking the premisses, reviewing escape roots and assembly points outside of the building as well as memorizing the layout of the research facility for faster navigation. Today was a dark and rainy day. It was the middle of winter and it was cold, most soldiers keeping inside, except for those involved in Besithia’s research. When Regis and Clarus returned from their walk, they were shivering and covered in snowflakes. “It’s cold outside. I admire the youth out there, training now.” Clarus breathed out through clattering teeth. “I concur, old friend. I concur...” “Did you find anything noteworthy?” Drautos looked outside the window, keeping a watchful eye on those ‘special recruits’. “Well... aside from the fact that those boys are training at such low temperatures with nothing but shorts, no. But I do find it strange that they are capable of surviving. Perhaps there is some valid truth in Besithia’s research?” “Whatever it is, be careful around those men.” “Let’s just go and take a break, Titus. How about we grab a bite?” A collective hum echoed through the room and the five men made their way to the canteen. “At least the food’s good.” Khara nodded and added, “Small mercies, indeed.” When they arrived in the canteen, it was almost empty, only a group of Lieutenants sitting around a table, playing cards. They exchanged a curt nod of greeting and then focussed on their game again. “Oh, some fresh meat. How delightful. And here I was thinking the day was done for. So, what do you want, my dears?” Ulric looked at the smiling man with maroon-coloured hair and said the next best thing he could come up with: “Anything you can dish out, handsome.” Ignoring the almost desperate groans in the back, Ulric wiggled his eyebrows, until Drautos grabbed his lapels and pulled him back. “Keep it in your pants, Ulric.” “Always.” The man behind the counter laughed amused. “You guys are the first real entertainment I've had all day. And you’re lucky that I like you. We’re actually closed already.” He nodded towards the clock, showing ‘21:37’ in red letters. “But... we still have some food left; it would be a shame to throw it away.” “Then please do serve whatever you have left.” Regis said with a smile. “And apologies, Clarus and I were late, so the two of us are to blame.” The man smiled, regarded them with an assessing gaze and then left the counter, returning quickly with five plates balancing them easily on his arms. “Here you go my dears. Do enjoy, it’s made with love.” Clarus and Regis just wordlessly hurried away, the Captain let out an exasperated growl and Khara just sniggered amused. When Ulric asked, “And what’s for dessert?” Drautos just bellowed the man’s name across the room, making the younger man and the soldiers all yelp. At that, the man behind the counter just smiled even more. “Seems your friend needs to loosen up a bit.” “Hah, if you knew... Nyx, by the way.” “Ardyn.” the man said, practically purring his name. “Gotta go now, see you later?” “But of course, I promise.” Ardyn said, winking, and waved the black-haired man goodbye. 

When Ulric joined the group on their table, he just shrugged at the looks Drautos and Clarus threw him. Regis and Khara were still amused. “You seem to have a way with people, Nyx Ulric. I do hope it won’t get you into any trouble, though.” “Oh, it already has, Boss. That one time... ow!” Khara yelped when Ulric stomped on his toes, earning a round of laughter from the others. The Captain just shook his head, hiding the small smile by popping another potato into his mouth. 15 minutes later, the group was on their way back to their break-out room when Besithia and his recruits turned the corner. “Oh, look at that, men. Our dear profilers. How is the search for your hitmen going?” “Professor...” Regis said unimpressed, but a smile graced his features – the man was the perfect politician when he needed to be. “I was thinking Caelum... your boys must be bored around here, sitting around all day long. How about you join my men for some training?” “If your men wanna get their arses handed to them, sure.” Khara hissed under his breath but Clarus stepped in. “Please, no need for this nonsense. We are only trying to help.” “And I already told you, that I won’t need help.” “Oh, my... you do sound mighty confident, don’t you?” All attendees turned their heads to see the man from the canteen leaning against the wall, a big smile plastered across his face. “How about we test what these boys are made of, hm? Unless you’re scared to lose that is. See you in 10 on the training grounds outside.” Ardyn turned around and walked away, humming a song while making his way down the corridor. However, he stopped short when he heard Besithia’s voice, his smile wavering the tiniest bit. “Imbecile... boys, ignore this filth. Now, where was I? Right, I bid you a good night.” Before both groups could part, the other man had turned around once more, pulled out his S&W500 and shot one of the recruits into the head, the body dropping immediately. Once he was certain everyone paid him attention again, he put on a feral smile. “I apologize for the misunderstanding. If you thought that you could decline, you were mistaken. Now, if you don’t mind... try to keep up.” The Adagium turned on his heel and started running, laughing amused. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried... ... really. Enjoy


	20. Strength alone is useless without determination

A wild chase started off. Besithia’s men followed suit at once, and so did Ulric and Khara, just in case. Drautos ordered the two blondes and Besithia to follow him. They walked down the corridor into the opposite direction when the lights went out. “Naturally.” The Captain whispered and pulled everyone into the next best room. The red light switched on and the alarm sounded. “What is this? Who was that?” Besithia gaped, having lost his cool. “Tummelt. Fleuret. Get ready, check the windows.” Drautos barked at them in his 'don’t fuck with me voice’ and they moved. Mixing in with the shrill sound of the alarm, they could hear shouting and gun shots. Without hesitation, the tall man indicted Regis and Clarus to ready their guns. Both men nodded and got into opposite corners of the room. The Captain pulled Besithia behind a heavy wooden desk and told him to stay put, before he took a seat in the middle of the room himself and got comfortable. 

The Adagium turned the corner and pressed his back against the wall, waiting for the men to catch up. Once the soldier was in arm’s reach, he elbowed the man into the side of his head, dropping him effectively. The second soldier lunged at him and he evaded with a smooth side-step, locking the outstretched arm and dislocating it. The hitman finished both young men off with a bullet into their head each. “Well, how anti-climatic, I expected more.” “Freeze!” Two more soldiers and Khara as well as Ulric pointed their guns at him, getting in stance. Before the four men could catch their breaths, the man in the coat spun around, and fired again. “That’s number 4.” Khara seized the moment and fired, but his erratic breathing hindered him from hitting the other man, just grazing his shoulder. Cussing profoundly, he lowered his gun a little, knowing it would do him no good. “Like I said, how about a little one-on-one? I am sure it would be better than useless shooting. At least... this way you’ve got a fighting chance!” he said, smiling wolfishly and the last of Besithia’s soldiers rushed him after the Adagium blew him a kiss. Khara and Ulric joined in at once. With a simple block and counter combo, the hitman dispatched the soldier and push-kicked him into Khara. ‘Ardyn’ was incredibly fast, Ulric had to give it to him, especially when he kissed the wall after a hand in his hair pushed him into it. The three men groaned, standing up onto wobbly legs. “How about you three try to be a bit more coordinated?” “Oh, you’re asking for it Ardyn... if that’s even your real name.” The man laughed amused. “But of course, it is. I picked it myself.” The man took a step back and bowed. “Ardyn Izunia, the Adagium. Now, how about we get this show on the road?” With that, the three men attacked. Khara went in first, trying to distract the older man with a jab-cross-combo while Ulric tried to sweep the man. Besithia’s soldier went in for a push-kick, throwing the Adagium back by a few steps. Blocking another incoming jab, the man with the maroon-haired hitman jumped at the wall and then kneed Khara into the face, knocking him down and out. Landing behind the poor man, he grabbed his shoulders and turned both of them around to face Ulric and the other man. With a wink, he threw Khara into the other agent before pulling out his gun and shooting the soldier between the eyes. “Bastard.” Ulric tackled the hitman but the man just stepped out of the way. What he did not expect though, was that Ulric turned to the side mid-throw, grabbed his leg and tugged, hard. The Adagium fell forward right on top of the younger man, knocking the air out of their lungs. Recovering faster, Ulric grappled the man underneath him but was thrown off immediately, their positions reversed. With a swift move, the barrel of the gun was placed between the young agent’s eyes. Then, the Adagium pulled the trigger. Ulric closed his eyes when he heard the quiet ‘click’... and life continued? “You should keep count, Nyx. I only have five bullets.” The younger man opened his eyes before he saw the end of the gun come down, knocking him unconscious. Standing up, the hitman looked satisfactory at the messy scene that laid before him. “That was fun.” “We’re not done yet.” Cold blue eyes locked with amber ones before the owner pushed himself off the wall and walked off. The Adagium frowned slightly before he followed suit. 

“Why is nothing happening?” “Shut up.” “I demand an answer.” “You won’t get one, now shut it.” Drautos barked back. They had been inside the room for a total of 27 minutes now – waiting for what was to come. Unfortunately, Besithia had recovered his ‘regular self’ in that time and was now being a prat. And the Captain had exactly zero nerves left for the man’s bullshit. When the gun shots had grown louder, he started to move from his position. Currently, he was listening at the door, identifying the sounds and gauging their distance: the majority were in the distance, growing quieter with each passing minute. There had been one hotspot that had been closer to where they were, but had grown quiet quickly. He had heard someone scream loudly, but again, nothing he could do about at this point. Then, he heard footsteps coming closer. Tensing, he got into position – waited. When the footsteps walked past their room, he relaxed the tiniest bit. “Sir, I think there is...” Tummelt did not get any further when a metal bar went right through the window, splintering the glass, the young man barely managing to duck out of the way. Just a moment later, the window shattered and two men stepped into the room. Without a moment’s hesitation, Drautos rushed in, but was blocked by a teep and forced back. Positioning themselves back-to-back, the hitmen reacted quickly and split, attacking the two blonde soldiers. Since close-combat and guns never mixed, Clarus and Regis stayed back. The Captain pulled Besithia to his feet and indicated for his friends to run to their external assembly point. The three elder men made off through the door. 

The man they had met in the canteen – Ardyn – was fighting the smaller blonde called Tummelt. Drautos zoned in on the other man who just had push-kicked Fleuret into a bookshelf. Unsheathing his trusty combat knife, he attacked with a forward slash, but the other man moved his upper body out of the way, brought his knee up and landed it in his gut. Ignoring the pain, he pressed forward, but the man weaved under his arm into his guard landing a powerful vertical punch on his clavicle. That did push the Captain back but the man brought up his other hand, locking the Immortal’s hand where it had hit him. While stepping back, he ducked down a little, forcing the other man to fall forward. “Leonis. Stop!” No response. Instead, the other man wrapped his free arm around Drautos’ neck and pulled his legs up and past the taller man so he landed behind him, going for a choke-hold. Out of reflex, Drautos pulled his chin down and elbowed backwards, aiming for the liver. Then, he grabbed the other man’s arm and threw him over his shoulder. With a loud hiss, the Immortal crashed back-first into the floor. Before anything else could happen, though, he jumped backwards just before Ardyn’s leg came down; hitting nothing. Fleuret had gotten back to his feet, tackling Ardyn back, leaving room for the Immortal and Drautos to fight. “Leonis, listen...” A snarl escaped the other man’s lips, when he jumped from his laying position straight into a crouch. For a moment, both men locked eyes – pale blue with deep blue. Then, with another feral snarl, the hitman attacked. He faked a hook and missed Drauto’s face before he crouched down, continued his 360-turn and elbowed him into the groin. There was not much the taller man could have done to avoid that, he was on his knees at once, dropping the knife in favour of blocking the incoming knee to his nose. The impact of the kick sent him sprawling backwards and the other man used that to lay more punches into him. When one hit finally broke his guard, the fist connected with his jaw and his head hit the hard floor, knocking him out. 

The Immortal picked up the combat knife and lifted it over his head, ready to end the unconscious man’s life – feeling a tinge of pain in his chest – but suddenly, he was thrown off. “Sorry, can’t do, mate.” Ulric headbutted the man and both staggered. Recovering first, the Immortal attacked the younger agent. With a gasp Drautos came to. He rolled to his side, clutching his aching head. With slightly blurred vision, he took in his surroundings: the man who called himself ‘Ardyn’ was fighting the two blonde soldiers and the Immortal was facing off with Ulric, who was being pushed into the corner of the room, mercilessly. The Captain stumbled to his feet and rushed the man, pulling him off the younger agent. Before the hitman could be pushed into the wall, though, he pressed his foot against it. The taller man’s voice was close to his ear when he heard him speak, “Leonis... Cor... stop.” With a feral snarl, the Immortal pushed his weight into the wall, walking it up a few steps and then flipped over Drautos’ head, kneeing him into the wall himself before landing on both feet. Resetting his stance, he faced both men, throwing a quick glance to his side to see how his companion was doing. 

The Adagium bounced off the corner of the room and twisted a leg around the taller blonde, pulling him down. On the floor, he grabbed the other’s arm, opened his guard with ease and kicked his heel into the other man’s throat. The smaller blonde jumped onto the hitman’s back but the other pressed him into the wall until he let go. He turned around, grabbed the other man’s hair and pulled him into his knee before stepping away and axe-kicking onto his neck. To all their surprise, both men just got up as if nothing happened. They could hear Ulric exhale a breathy ‘what the fuck’. When the larger blonde grabbed hold of the Adagium and tried to pull him down, the Immortal moved; ignoring the two Glaives, he stepped onto a chair, launched himself up into the air and landed with his knee on the other man’s ribcage, causing it to break with a loud ‘crack’. “We don’t have time for this.” he said, when a hand came up to his throat, squeezing hard – the soldier was supposed to be dead and yet he had an arm around his throat – the fuck? The Adagium tried to help him but was pulled back by the smaller blonde. Drautos and Ulric could not do much but stare. “Uhm, Captain... my medical knowledge is a but rusty, but aren’t you supposed to die when your ribcage is smashed in or your neck’s broken?” The older man nodded. “Technically, yes...” When the Immortal was thrown across the room against the wall, they both stepped back a little. A moment later, the Adagium landed right next to him. The two soldiers stepped in front of them, the smaller one grabbing hold of the metal bar that had come through the window. 

Ardyn chuckled darkly. “Look at that. Seems those two are better than those other guys.” Getting up, both men took their stances, back-to-back. Ardyn threw the two agents a quick glance. “You two better stay out of this. They’re ours!” Tummelt rushed in, swinging the metal bar as if it were a baseball bat. The Immortal blocked and Ardyn kicked. When Fleuret rushed them, both hitmen evaded, Ardyn grabbed hold of his companion’s arm, jumped off and landed both his feet in the larger blonde’s face. With a turn, the Immortal high-kicked the wobbling body into the broken pieces of the bookshelf, a broken wooden plank piercing right through the crushed ribcage. The body went limp. The metal bar came forward and the Immortal was forced to curve the lower part of his back to avoid it, grabbing hold of it with both arms, locking the bar in against his spine. Ardyn ducked down and went for the other’s knee, but missed. That is when his companion turned, repositioned the bar and slammed it full force into the blonde’s face. A sickening ‘crack’ was heard again, but nothing else happened. “The hell?” he whispered erratically. The body wobbled and spasmed before going rigid. When nothing happened, all four men stared at it in a moment of astonishment – their little fight completely forgotten. “What was that?” Ulric whispered, not sure whether to be creeped out or amazed. “Besithia’s wonder drug. What do you think, dear? Nothing like this is meant to exist. That’s why we’re here to put an end to it. More or less... didn’t expect this though!” “There are other ways to do that, you know, right?” the younger agent snapped back, throwing the dishevelled man a quick glance. “Oh, sure, let the justice system take care of its own. Hah, don’t make me laugh. Nobody would stop such a research, and you know it.” “Enough.” Drautos barked. “Anyone care to explain why this guy is still standing when he evidently should not?” Again, four pairs of eyes landed on the still body. Then, as if on cue, the body moved. Hands lashing out at all four men. Without an actual target, the smaller soldier went in for an uncoordinated but relentless attack. The Immortal weaved away and pushed the young man towards the two agents. Turning towards his companion, he breathed, “No time for this. On me.” And with that, the man turned on his heel, jumping through the window, trying to find their actual target, ignoring the man calling after him. 

Regis and Clarus had pulled Besithia out of the building, heading towards their assembly point outside of the premisses. They had agreed to keep an escape plan in place if things went from bad to worse. With the majority of the team unresponsive, both men categorized their situation as worst-case, thus, they were heading towards an isolated area with minimal hiding possibilities; this would allow them to see exactly who was coming from where. But they also presented themselves on a silver platter if the hitmen decided to bring the big guns. The three men were standing in a dimly lit clearing, the cold night air burning in their noses, the snow crunching under their shoes. “Are you sure it’s safe?” “I don’t think there's a safe place from those two powerhouses.” Clarus whispered breathy. “Did you see him? He was so... different. It gave me quite the shivers, he was completely ruthless.” “We’ll figure it out, Reggie. But I need you to focus now.” A noise caught the three men’s attention. When a man emerged from the shadows, they raised their guns, taking aim. The man came slowly closer, the tail of his coat playing in the wind. “Freeze. Or I’ll shoot.” Clarus yelled loudly, voice unwavering, but the other man continued towards them. His steps did not even falter in the slightest, when Clarus released a warning shot, putting a hole into the man’s coat. When the man was close enough, he stopped, blood smeared across his face. “Who are you?” “Ardyn Izunia, also known as the Adagium. But... you really shouldn’t worry that much about me.” “Oh, and why’s that?” Pointing towards somewhere behind them, he continued, “Because brother-dearest has a score to settle.” A shot echoed through the night air and Verstael Besithia dropped to the ground, his blood seeping onto the dirty snow. A few feet away, the Immortal stood unmoving, his revolver trained at the now dead target. 

“Cor...” Regis called out; voice hoarse. No response. When Regis took a step forward, the Immortal aimed and pulled the trigger. The bullet grazed the other man’s cheek. “Cor? Please stop! This isn’t you.” “Oh, but it is.” Ardyn chimed in, starting to walk over to his partner. “See... my brother here had to sit through detention because of you. Daddy-dearest was not happy, so he needed to teach him a lesson.” Clarus furrowed his brow. “Detention? Teaching him a lesson, what are you implying? What did he do to Cor?” Ardyn smiled sweetly, walking toward the other hitman. “He showed him where he belongs.” “Cor belongs to us.” came the immediate snappy response from Regis, causing the hitman to laugh. “I doubt that. But ask him yourself.” Letting his hand fall onto the Immortals shoulder, he sauntered behind his companion, giving him a hug from behind. The man in his arms did not move an inch, evident that he did not care about it. “Cor...” Clarus started, “... whatever Gilgamesh told you, it’s not true. He lied; you never had a chance. He threatened to kill me if Titus or Gladio spoke up for you. And you. You were there too, weren’t you? You’re the third sniper. Tell him.” The Immortal could hear his partner chuckle darkly, his breath ghosting over his ear when he spoke – giving him another sense of déjà-vu. “I was watching indeed. But all I had in my sights were you two.” Letting go of the other hitman, Ardyn straightened and stood next to him – it was not like he was lying per se, now, was he? But he certainly needed to have a chat with Gilgamesh about what the man had really done. “We should leave, darling. Our target has been neutralized. Unless you feel like you want to kill more people tonight.” “Cor, please, don’t.” It was Regis again. “I am begging you. Stop; drop the gun and hear us out.” At last, the Immortal spoke, “Hear you out? Why? Just so that you can tell me more lies?” “We never lied to you.” “Then why did you let him take me back?” he snarled back louder than necessary and pulled the trigger again, the bullet hitting the ground right in front of Regis’ feet. “Another step and the next hits between your eyes.” “Cor, please...” Regis took a step forward, shaking off Clarus’ arm who tried to pull him back. Burning blue eyes met sad green ones – why was this man always sad when looking at him? “I know you don’t trust us. You have no reason to, but we never wanted Gilgamesh to take you back.” Ardyn sighed sympathetically. He put a hand onto the Immortals’ raised gun and forced it down, slowly but steady. “Come, there’s no point in this. It will only hurt more the longer you listen.” 

“He’s staying.” a rough voice said, causing Ardyn to turn around, just to be punched straight onto his nose. Stumbling away from the other man, he let out a series of curses. When the Immortal turned around as well, his face connected with a downward punch and then a knee. Drautos and Ulric had finally caught up with the rest, breathing heavy, looking very beat-up. Ulric moved around the older man and trained his gun on Ardyn. “Ulric, Titus... what happened?” “Oh, you know... some freakishly drugged up soldiers happened to us, Boss.” Crouching down, the Captain moved a hand under the Immortal’s chin, grabbed his goatee and pulled his head up to meet his gaze. The blue of the man’s irises was shining brightly with all the blood smeared on across his face – a beautiful contrast. His face may have been a mask of indifference but those eyes spoke volumes. “If you don’t trust us, then ask Gilgamesh what exactly happened in the car park. Ask him whether he showed us his phone with a view on Clarus and Regis clutching his wound in the park – all while Iris was crying.” Something akin to recognition flashed in the deep blue eyes, but it was gone before Drautos could be sure. The hitman opened his mouth but closed it again when no sound came out – what was it about these people being able to break through literally every defense he put up; this could hardly be normal, could it? “Don’t do it. He’ll put you back into detention when he finds out. You know that.” Ardyn hissed sharply, earning himself a painful kick to his ass by Ulric. “Hey shut it, don’t ruin their moment.” the agent growled, but only received a loud bark from the hitman. “Exactly that’s the problem. If you haven’t noticed, my dear brother isn’t one for emotions. You claim you want to help, but all you do is make things worse for him!” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Drautos did not bother listening to the heated argument that ensued between the three men – he focussed solely on the man in front of him; and so did the other. Automatically, he let his thumb run over the man's bottom lip, who opened his mouth by an infinitesimally small fraction, just enough that tongue and thumb would touch for a second. “Cor...” 

A shot echoed through the night, breaking whatever spell they were caught in. The Immortal’s head snapped around and found his companion still on the ground, returning his gaze – if it had not been Ulric who had fired the shot... it seemed like everyone made that connection and turned towards the clearing. There, they could see soldiers running towards them. At that moment, Ardyn threw a leg out and caused the younger agent to stumble. With a small scuffle, the man took the Ulric’s gun and pressed it against his temple. “Alright, that’s it. We’re leaving, dear brother. No arguments.” The Immortal pulled slowly away from Drautos, picking up his revolver. When another shot echoed, they all ducked down, but him. He took stance and aimed at the soldiers. Before he could shoot though, Regis stepped into his line of fire. “Enough. Have you not killed enough people tonight?” “Out of my way.” “No, Cor... stop this.” “Brother, let’s just go...” “You ain’t leaving, mate.” “Oh, shut up, you...” “Gentlemen, stop, this is not helping.” Suddenly, everything became too loud, the calm he had felt mere seconds ago completely gone. He blinked once, twice. “Shut up... shut up...” Why did everyone think he needed to be ordered around – was that what he was to them, some dog? The Immortal clutched his head, when suddenly, he felt cold hands wrap around his own that still held the revolver. “Cor...” “Shut up!” he yelled and pulled the trigger. The five men froze when Regis stumbled backward, clutching his stomach, blood starting to seep through his clothes. “No, no, no, no, no... Reggie.” Clarus scrambled over and caught his friend before he hit the ground. “What did you do? Cor?!” Stepping backward, the man looked at the heavily bleeding man in front of him, then at Clarus, Drautos and finally, at Ardyn, who reacted first. He pushed Ulric into the snow, jumped forward and grabbed his hand. He turned around and ran, dragging the other man along behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do love fighting... enjoy.


	21. Truths, lies and all that in-between

It had taken the two men a whole day before they had returned to their safehouse. They had not talked, despite Ardyn’s few attempts. When they finally did arrive, Gilgamesh had already been waiting for them. Surprisingly, it had been the Immortal to report him the events, voice as cold as ice: all test subjects were dead, Besithia was dead and Regis Lucis Caelum was dead. At that, their mentor had walked over and placed a hand onto his shoulder, telling him what a ‘good boy’ he had been. All Ardyn could do was roll his eyes, however, it did not escape his attention that the other man’s knuckles were white from the force he was using to clench his fists. The trio had had lunch together that day, but once done, the Immortal had excused himself and left for his rooms. Once out of earshot, Ardyn had looked at Gilgamesh. “I know you used me. But if he ever finds out that you lied to him, there’ll be hell to pay.” “He won’t.” “What makes you think that?” “Because you won’t tell him.” The older man had gotten up and headed for the kitchen door. Before he was completely gone, he had stopped, saying, “You should return to Europe.” Ardyn had stuck his tongue out and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “If you think I’m letting you get away this easily, you’ve got another think coming, old man. And why am I the one to clean up? This is so not fair!” 

The Immortal had barely made it into his room and closed the door before he had to rush into the bathroom and emptied himself into the toilet. Grabbing the rim tightly, he had retched until he was sure that there was nothing left to throw up. Why did he not feel satisfied – another mission completed, another target down. That was what Regis had been the whole time, no? Yes! So, why did he feel like he had made the worst mistake in his life? When he had felt something tickle his cheek, he had wiped at it with his hand, surprised to find it wet. 

Everything after Regis had dropped to the ground had been a blur of events. There was not enough time, yet everything happened too fast. Only when the doctor had exited the ICU did time slow down to its normal pace. Clarus had remained on-site in case of any urgent matters or if any complications arose, but fortunately, the surgeon had good news: Regis was alive, the bullet out of his body, the bleeding stopped. Right now, he was sedated, and Clarus was waiting for his life-long friend to wake up. “Dad?” Gladiolus had quietly entered the room; the kids had left the safehouse they were living in to visit, despite Clarus’ protests. “Dad? You fell asleep. I was wondering... maybe you should go home for a bit? I can keep an eye on him. And Iris needs her dad too, you know?” Clarus smiled at his son and got up, some of his bones plopping after so many hours of not moving. He glanced down at Regis’ still body and reluctantly left the room, Ignis helping him. 

Drautos had been glad he was busy. He had stayed behind to update and coordinate any further actions that were necessary. While Highwind took care of anything ARL-related, he focussed on everything Glaives-related. Ulric had taken over the damage assessment and then had left with Khara to get to the hospital for a proper check-up. He had had promised them to go as well, once done with all the ‘Boss-stuff’. Collecting the last couple of boxes from Besithia’s office he gave the order to pack everything up and the privates moved about quickly. “Hey grizzly.” Highwind had stepped next to him, looking out the window. “How you doing?” Grumbling, he had simply shrugged. “That good, huh? Sorry. If it’s any consolidation, I will take over Besithia’s research for the time being. I am still amazed how he managed to hide away these doped-up soldiers. Poor boys! I think the proof we have may be sufficient to shut this particular research area down – that's at least something, I guess.” Drautos had nodded. “Did you know that nobody was able to give a description of those assailants?” When he did not say anything, Highwind had looked at him directly. “Why are you keeping the information on Caelum under wraps?” Silence. “There is more to this than you let on, right?” If she knew... 

“Again!” came the order and both men stood up. Before they could ready themselves, the bokken came down diagonally onto the Adagium’s leg. With a loud ‘shit’ he dropped and waited for the next hit to his neck, but it did not come; the Immortal had stepped in and blocked Gilgamesh’s attack. Their mentor spun around, avoided the younger man’s strike, hitting him full force on his lower arms. Wincing, he let go of his own bokken. The Adagium came in to support him and they switched position. He picked up his wooden weapon and got ready, both young men back-to-back, facing their mentor. They attacked together, pushing Gilgamesh back before the man – as always – disarmed them. “Adagium, you’re telegraphing too much, I can read you like an open book. And you’re getting easily tempted into attacking. Immortal, do not open yourself up to protect your partner. There is no point in that. Strike, rather than guard.” The Immortal frowned but nodded. Gilgamesh turned around and made for the door, evidence for their session being over. “Read you like an open book... as if, he’s probably the only one who can do that.” Ardyn grumbled displeased and moved to put the weapons away. The other man just quietly re-hung the heavy-bag they had taken down before training. Ardyn looked over his shoulder and tilted his head. “You’ve been awfully quiet the last couple of days.” “Don’t feel like talking.” “I’ve noticed. Evidently, you’re back to your grouchy personality. Splendid!” “If you don't like it, then stop talking to me.” The other man replied with a snarl, walking over to help clean the bokken. “Like I said before... you need to relax. Get yourself a good...” “... not interested.” “You don’t even know what I was going to say.” Blue eyes sought out amber ones. “If I remember correctly, last time you used the word ‘ploughing’. I am not interested.” “Oh, not even with a certain Captain?” At that, the man’s back stiffened slightly and Ardyn raised an eyebrow. Voice suddenly serious, he asked, “What did Gilgamesh do that night when you asked him for his help?” “Nothing.” was the too quick reply. Ardyn narrowed his eyes. “That’s mighty vague if you ask me.” “That’s the only answer you’ll get.” And with that, the conversation was finished. The Immortal left the training hall. 

A few days after their return to the safe house, Gilgamesh had informed them that no news of Regis Lucis Caelum’s death had been released to the public. Looking further into this, they had found out that the man, indeed, had survived. To everyone’s surprise, their mentor did not give the order to kill the man. He had remained silent. However, starting the next day, Gilgamesh had made them come to the training hall at oh-six-hundred hours sharp for weapons training, every day; despite their injuries. Both men had literary been thrown around the room and strained to keep up until their bodies collapsed. Neither man had been able to get back up and the old hitman had just left them on the floor. That had been two weeks ago now. Their wounds had mostly healed and they did pick up pace in training again, but not enough to beat their mentor – how the old man was still capable of beating both of them together was a mystery neither of them could solve. The Immortal threw himself onto his bed, not bothering to dress, just staying wrapped up in the fresh warm towel – every move made his back hurt. Closing his eyes, he enjoyed the quiet... that did not last long when the door to his room opened and revealed an unwanted visitor. “Go away.” “I come bearing gifts.” Ardyn lulled amused. “A delicious chicken paella and some chocolate mousse.” His ears perked up on that. “Is it spicy?” “Yours is, yes.” The Immortal moved at incredible speed when he rolled off his bed and straight into seiza in front of it, earning himself an amused huff from the other man. Ardyn walked over and put the tray down, plopping himself onto the other man’s bed. Inhaling the scents of their meal, the Immortal hummed. “Smells good.” “I do hope so. Bon Appétit.” 

Once finished eating, both men had discarded the dishes and shoved them away so they could get comfortable – Ardyn on the bed, the other leaning against the side of it. “It’s been ages since we’ve done this.” The Immortal nodded, trying to stop the little comfortable smile creep onto his features. “It’s... nice to have you here.” “Oh, what was that? Did I hear that right? Did the Immortal just admit to having missed me?” “Shut up, asshole.” “Sorry, I can’t. I have to savour this moment in full now.” Ardyn turned onto his side and looked at the other man’s back side. “You know, you don’t have to be like him in everything you do.” “I do, he expects it of me.” “But you’re not like him. You care.” “I shouldn’t.” He tried to swat Ardyn’s finger away when it started pulling at his right ear. “That doesn’t alter the fact that you do-hoo.” “Ardyn... Adagium... stop.” he snarled, turning towards the other man. Immediately, he regretted that, wincing. “You good?” “I think I just strained my back or something.” “Hm, the old man did hit you quite badly.” Ardyn moved off the bed and patted the sheets. “Come on. Up. I’ll have a look.” The Immortal cocked a brow; disbelieve evident in the deep blue eyes. “Just do it!” With a grunt, the man lifted himself off the floor and lay onto the bed, face down. With one fluid motion, Ardyn moved his leg up and over, letting his body weight fall onto the other man’s lower back, straddling him. “Fuck, that hurts.” he gasped, but could do little from the position he was now locked in. “Relax. I’ll give you a good back-rub and then you’ll feel better.” Cracking his fingers, Ardyn pressed into the trapezius of the other man’s back. “You know... I couldn’t help but notice that you seemed relieved that this Regis guy survived. Stop moving. Relax, otherwise this’ll hurt.” Pushing his fingers down along the man’s rhomboid muscles, he continued happily, “I might know the hospital he’s being kept in, if you’re interested to visit.” The Immortal growled low, “I have no order to kill him.” “I didn’t mean that. I figured you might want to go; see how he’s doing? You know, tell him it was an accident. Apologize.” Again, the man under him tried to move but was pressed back into the mattress. “He was my target, I won’t apologize.” “You’re playing hard to get, dear. But I know better.” Another grunt. “You don’t. Fuck! There... right there.” Ardyn pressed his knuckles into the serratus posterior and counted to 10. “You know what I think? You do care. Because those people showed you something you didn’t know of, and part of you wants it back.” “It didn’t stop them from leaving me behind.” Sighing, Ardyn applied more pressure, whispering, “They didn’t.” “What? Ow...” “I said, hold still.” 

Ardyn’s back-rub had actually done him wonders. The pain in his back had almost completely faded towards the end of the day, so, when they were sitting in the kitchen, having dinner, he felt quite at ease – unlike his mind though. After their chat, he had thought about the events that had taken place at ARL. His gut feeling told him that something was amiss but he could not put his finger on it. So, when the trio was sitting at the table, eating in silence, he almost missed how Gilgamesh fumbled around with a... smartphone? “This thing is complicated.” he grumbled and threw it onto the table, pulling the Immortal’s complete attention towards it. “Where’s your Nokia?” Gilgamesh shrugged. “It was time for a change.” Ardyn continued eating quietly, but shot the other man a quick glance. He could see how the gears in the man’s head were turning and producing the result he knew was inevitable. “You got yourself a Samsung...” The Immortal’s voice was calm. “Is that a problem, boy?” “Not at all... I’m done.” Ardyn choked on his orange juice when the other man got up and left without another word, earning himself a dangerous glare from their mentor – oh, this was not going to end well. 

Later that night, when Ardyn stepped out of the shower, he found the other man waiting for him. “Give me the name of the hospital.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> been busy with training and work, forgot to update... ... ... :( 
> 
> but hey, Gen gave me a wishlist of things she would like to see in the next chapters... so yeah... got some work laid out for me.
> 
> oh and never trust old men. like seriously... we have this guy in class, he's 70 and every time we do kumite it feels like punching a stone wall... ... ... i love it, but it hurts.


	22. Let the grown-ups have a talk...

When Regis first woke up, the first thing he felt was disorientation. Then came the pain. Then the memories. And then the tears. He did not even notice Clarus and the kids entering his room until they were next to him, embracing him in a tight hug. It had taking him time to calm down, but once he had, his long-time friend told him what had happened after he went down; told him about the files they had obtained with Aranea Highwind’s help, the cancelled research project as well as what they had put into their reports and told the Board of Directors – knowing they would demand an explanation – he also told him that there was no way they could keep the Immortal out of this any longer. In fact, there was too much evidence of his involvement. They had collected eight bullet cartridges with two different designs on it; one for the Immortal and one for the Adagium. Regis just had nodded quietly, agreeing to the action taken, even if he hated it. He had truly and sincerely hoped they could save their little brother, but evidently, he had been mistaken. That night, Noctis had stayed with him to keep him company, easing the pain he felt inside. 

Three weeks later, he felt somewhat better. Grumpy that the hospital refused to release him and ignoring his requests for a TV in his room or access to the little adjacent park. Eventually, the staff had conceded and allowed him to go out for short walks – well, everyone but him was allowed to walk, he was sitting in a wheelchair. Currently, they were outside, sitting in a pavilion. The day was warm and the snow had freshly fallen, covering everything in white. Titus was leaning against one of the pillars, giving Iris space to jump around. Gladiolus, Noctis, Ignis and Prompto were sitting at the table playing cards. Clarus was updating Regis on how work was going. Suddenly, Iris was squeaking loudly, pointing excitedly at something before she ran off, calling, “Uncle Cor!” At that, seven pairs of eyes followed the little girl as she sprinted the couple of yards and hugged the man’s leg. “I’ll be damned.” Clarus breathed, utter shock and disbelief written across his face. There, the man was, standing next to the other royal pain of a hitman, crunching down, talking to his little girl. A moment later, Iris turned around and ran back to them, a big smile on her face. “Daddy. Uncle Cor is back... look, look!” It took the man a few attempts before he found his voice again. “I... can see that...” He was glad when Gladiolus came over to pick her up, taking her with her and the boys quietly left to give them space to talk. Slowly, both men walked over to the pavilion – the Immortal was wearing his trademark black clothes, unlike the Adagium, who wore a fedora and way too many layers under the same coat he had been wearing that night; he looked ridiculous. For a moment, neither man said anything, but then Clarus got up, walked over and punched him across the jaw. “You... have some nerve to come here. After everything you did!” “Clarus.” “No Regis. He needs to know in how much shit he’s currently in, and I am happy to enlighten him!” Fuming, Clarus glared at the younger man, who returned his stare quietly. “Are you here to finish what you started?” “No.” “Then what do you want?” “Jeez, relax, will you? Go and bark up a tree or something.” The other hitman quipped in, annoyed, but was silenced by the Immortal’s hand. “’s fine.” He walked past Clarus, ignoring the man’s outburst, and stopped a few feet in front of Regis. “I came... to apologize.” he breathed; voice low. “I didn’t mean to. Shoot.” He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. “I lost control... made a mistake.” Regis’ extended hand made him stop and frown in surprise, unsure what was expected of him until he could hear Ardyn whisper to ‘take it’. So, he grabbed hold of the hand and he felt a wave of surprise at how delicate it felt compared to his own. He swallowed the lump in his throat when the other man pulled him a little closer. To accommodate the wheelchair, he kneeled next to it, dropping his head against Regis’ knee, closing his eyes. And just like that, it felt like another wall broke down. “I’m sorry...” he whispered, squeezing the other man’s hand tightly. “I’m... it wasn’t meant to happen.” Unable to control his voice, it broke and turned into a painful choked-out sound. 

None of the men said anything, just quietly watched the scene before them unfold. Regis had placed his hand on top of Cor’s head, while the other man’s body was shaken by small trembles the hitman was unable to suppress. “Cor...” Regis started, “It’s okay.” his voice a light whisper. Looking up, deep blue eyes found green ones, and they did not seem sad. Clearing his throat, Cor stood, proud of himself to not having started crying like a baby – he needed to focus on what he had come for: “There is an unresolved matter... I need to know exactly what happened in the car park.” Regis threw a quick glance over to Titus, who had remained silent, ever watching. He saw Cor turn around and face him, trademark scowl on his face, avoiding his gaze though. He started to reiterate, “We came up, you were on your knees, he had the blade on your throat. When he asked whether we’re ready to fight for you he showed us his phone. A live-feed of those two idiots. He indicated for us to stay quiet or Clarus would die.” “What phone did he use?” Titus frowned, thinking, then: “A Samsung, no case, why?” With a sharp hiss, Cor turned away and walked a few steps, glaring at the pillar right in front of him. It was evident that it took him quite some control to not punch it. “Darling…" Ardyn stepped closer, trying to grab his shoulder, but the other just grabbed his arm and pushed him into the pillar instead, lifting him by a few inches off the ground. “Were you ever planning on telling me?” Cor’s snarl sounded feral when he glared at his so-called ‘brother’. “You knew and you didn’t say anything.” “I didn’t know at the beginning. He only told me to keep those men in my sights. Never mentioned with one word that I should kill them. When he said you were compromised, I didn’t think it was by your... family – not like this. He just said it was important to get you back!” Ardyn hissed back. “So, you found out later, and you still didn’t tell me! All the shit you told me were implications, weren’t they?!” “It’s not my fault when you’re so thick-headed that nothing gets through to you.” “Oh, now it’s my fault?” “If you had listened...” “I refuse to listen to an asshole who keeps telling me to get a good ‘ploughing’ for fuck’s sake!” Cor barked back loudly. “If you had, then you wouldn’t have that stick up your arse and maybe you could have avoided that little mid-life crisis of yours. And for once, you’d not have listened to the old man! Besides, if that’s all you took away from that conversation, then that’s not my fault.” “Oh, do tell what else you said, because there was not much else noteworthy to remember.” “Hey, I cooked and gave you a nice back-rub!” “What does that have to do with all of this? That doesn’t even answer my question!” Cor could hear some strange noises behind him, turning, he frowned when he saw Clarus and Regis heaving and Titus hiding his eyes behind his hand. As if on cue, Regis burst out laughing loudly. Confused, he let go of Ardyn. “Did I say something wrong?” “I think it may have something to do with the word ‘ploughing’ you seem to be so fond of...” “Fuck you!” Now, Clarus started laughing as well, having to sit down in one of the chairs. He could hear Titus grumble something along the lines of ‘what did I do to deserve this’ and got just more confused. “I don’t understand. Guns do jack-shit but they’re dying of laughter?” “Cor...” Regis started, trying to get his breathing back under control. “Excuse us, but this was truly a very funny spectacle.” “I can see that.” the hitman deadpanned, taking a deep breath and sorting his thoughts out, grounding himself. Turning towards Ardyn, he gave the hitman one last angry look. Ardyn took his fedora off and placed it onto Cor’s head. “Dear brother, if I had told you outright, you wouldn’t have believed me. Not after detention, and not after you asked him for help!” Cor pulled the hat off and pushed it into the other man’s chest. “I guess...” A moment later, Clarus cleared his throat. “Detention... you keep saying that. What does that mean... Ardyn?” The man with the maroon-coloured hair put his fedora back on before strolling over to the table and sitting down as well, ignoring the warning glare Cor regarded him with. “We call it ‘detention’ but I think according to the ethical standards of the OSCE it would be considered psychological torture.” “Adagium, don't...” At that the three pairs of eyes looked at him. “He’s exaggerating.” “Oh, okay, then do tell them what ‘detention’ entails, hm?” Cor folded his arms in front of his chest, glaring at his companion. For a moment, both hitmen were silently fighting about it, but Cor shook his head. He knew the man for too long to know he would drop this topic. So, he started explaining, “It’s a dark room, with a constant noise, keeping us awake. There’s a chain to keep us in place, so we can’t move around too much. We stay there for days without food or water until he thinks it’s enough. Satisfied?” “Yes.” And there it was – of course, they would pity him, so Cor did the next best thing he could think of: he snarled at them. “Stop staring!” Regis reached for his hand and entwined their fingers. “If I had known...” “There is nothing you could have done, dear. Our little Cor is too stubborn for his own good.” Ardyn interrupted, earning himself another glare, but Regis chuckled lightly. “Yes, seems some things never change.” 

Titus had been quietly watching. He was glad they had sorted out their issue, but at the same time he felt angry that the man did not seem to care about one particular problem and he was too touchy-feely with the other hitman – he felt jealous, he realized. Titus Drautos did not do jealous! So, he turned on his heel and left the pavilion. Taking long strides, he walked past Iris and the younger men, who regarded him with a questioning look, towards a small group of trees that bled into a small forest. A little fresh air would help clear his mind – or rather, the change in location would do. When he felt sufficiently covered by the trees, he leaned against one tree and breathed deeply. Barking out a “fuck”, he looked up at the treetops. A few minutes of quiet went by, every now and then there would be a ‘chirp’ but that was it. Then, he heard twigs cracking – footsteps. Titus did not bother moving, it did not matter who it was, he just wanted to be left alone. The steps came to a halt in front of him, but he kept his gaze focussed at the sky. “Titus...” No response. “... Regis said I should talk to you.” This was starting to get so old... “Like a good little soldier, you only do as you’re being told, don’t you? What happened to ‘I am my own man’? Or was that all just talk?” His expression may have been neutral, but he could not keep the frustration out of his voice, and the other man picked up on it. “You’re angry.” “No shit!” Silence settled over both men – stretching into a minute, then two... then three. “If you’d felt such discomfort, you should’ve said no. I wouldn’t have continued if you did.” “I didn’t.” “Then why spew your guts out?” Titus could hear the other man exhale. “Because I failed the mission and I had realized it then. He expected me to kill them both. Instead, I was... weak.” “Weakness is not acceptable, you tried to compensate?” the Captain thought out loud, finally looking at the hitman in front of him. He saw him tense and snarl. “Don’t analyse me.” “It’s hard not to. Can’t tell what’s true and what’s not.” Titus replied sternly. Cor locked their gazes, a deep growl bubbling in his throat. “The truth is that I don’t know!” He took a step forward and squared his shoulders. “The truth is that everyone keeps telling me their version of the story and I have no way of finding out who is lying.” Another step. “The truth is that my head is broken, and everyone keeps telling me I am part of their family and expect me to be loyal to them.” One more step. “The truth is that I want things I should not want and I don’t know how to stop it.” He stopped right in front of the other man, returning the angry stare the Captain threw him, he could not stop himself from dropping his gaze a little before forcing it back up to the other man’s eyes. Swallowing hard, he started quietly, “I want...” but trailed off, the angry fire turning into something else. “What?” the other man asked equally quiet. Cor snarled again, baring his teeth a little, but the taller man remained unimpressed. He grabbed Titus by the collar of his leather jacket and pulled him down, barking out a “kiss me” and the man did – his hand was up and behind Cor’s neck pulling him in immediately, smashing their lips together. Titus bit Cor’s bottom lip and pulled until the other man opened his mouth. At once, his tongue darted into the wet cavern, seeking out the other’s tongue and pressed against it until the strong muscle pushed back. As quickly as it had started, it also ended. The Captain pulled back. “What else?” Cor followed. “Again.” Locking lips again, Cor pressed himself against the taller man’s frame. He pushed his tongue past the line of teeth but was forced back into his own mouth quickly. Too preoccupied with the Captain's tongue, Cor did not pay attention to the hands that grabbed his hips. Only when they started to move him did he break away from the other. Before he could do anything, he was shoved against the tree, Titus pinning him there with his body – he was so close, he could feel his body heat radiating off him. “What else?” came the question again and a small whine escaped Cor’s throat, making him tense in embarrassment. However, it did not stop him from answering, “Touch me.” “Where?” Seriously? Cor snarled again as he pulled the man even closer than he already was. “Everywhere.” he clarified before he could feel the other man’s lips on his again. Oh, and there were still those hands... which had found their way under the layers of shirts he was wearing. It sent a shiver through his body, but he could feel that burning excitement he had felt before. Being more attentive this time around, Titus pulled away. “You’re not going to puke, are you?” “No.” Cor breathed, his frown easing out. “Just...” He let one hand drop to his trousers and pulled at the mid-section, receiving an amused chuckle from the other man. Titus moved his left hand down to Cor’s, feeling the outline of the man’s cock. Tracing his fingers along the hard form, he whispered into the smaller man’s ear, “Want me to take care of it?” “Here?” “You’re welcome to walk back like that.” The rumbling of Titus’ voice made him shiver again, making it difficult to think. Eventually, Cor looked up into those pale blue eyes and breathed, “Make it fast.” 

Letting loose a primal sound, Titus attacked the other man’s mouth again while fumbling open belt and trousers. When he pulled down the fabric, Cor gasped into his mouth but did his best not to break the kiss. Instead, he brought his hands back up to the taller man’s jacket, grabbing hold to steady himself. The Captain wrapped his fingers around the cockhead and squeezed, earning himself a partially suppressed moan. His hand started to move, down and up, a lazy motion. When he felt the hitman buck into his hand, he picked up the pace; focussing more on the glans which had started leaking precum. He smeared it across the head and twisted his hand. Cor’s head fell against the tree behind him, allowing Titus access to his throat and he went for it. He bit down on the sternal head of Cor’s SCM and the man hissed with pleasure. The Captain moved his index finger over the glans again before pressing into the slit, forcing the urethra open. “Fuck... Titus... fuck!” The hitman tensed at the unfamiliar intrusion. He arched his back, let go of the Captain and grabbed hold of a tree branch above his head pulling one leg up and against the trunk, stretching his body as good as he could – not sure where to move. Titus’ second hand finally started to scratch lightly over heaving ribs up to the strong pectorals. Pinching a nipple at the same time as he squeezed and twisted his hand around the cockhead was enough to make the other man cum. Cor unloaded himself all over Titus’ hand while desperately trying to keep his voice down, biting his bottom lip until he could taste blood. Breathing hard, he remained frozen in position. When he felt something tug at his goatee, he opened his eyes – not sure when he had closed them in the first place. “You good?” Titus asked a moment later and Cor nodded. “Yes. You... know how to be quick.” At that, the other man smiled amused. “Years of experience with my own hand.” At that, the hitman’s lips quirked up a little as well. When his gaze fell to Titus’ hand he frowned. “Your sleeve.” “It’ll come off.” the man replied, bringing his left to his mouth and licking off the man’s cum. Then, he pulled out a small tissue, wiping his sleeve clean. Cor was watching the other man’s actions while tucking himself back in, making himself look presentable again. When the other was done, he pulled the taller man in and pressed a closed-mouth kiss onto his lips. “What about you?” he whispered. Titus leaned his forehead against the other’s, humming. “I'm good.” he started, “Perhaps if you stay around, we can continue later.” Cor nodded, liking the sound of that – neither of them acknowledging the fact that ‘later’ was relative. “Let’s get back to the others. I’m sure they’re already gossiping like little schoolgirls and causing mayhem to the hospital staff.” Cor’s scowl deepened, evidence to him thinking about something. “With the Adagium... no, with Ardyn around... fuck, we need to stop that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying myself on drama here... enjoy.


	23. ... and decide what you want...

“... and he ran out of the woman’s room, utter panic written across his pale face, slammed the door shut and ran over to Gilgamesh, saying: ‘I will never have anyone touch me like this ever again, you old git.’ and then he stomped off.” A wave of laughter erupted from everyone inside the room. When they saw Titus and Cor enter, Iris came running straight at him. “Uncle Cor, they’re making fun of you!” Kneeling down, the man picked Iris up, taking a deep breath, throwing a questioning look at Ardyn. “What have you done now, asshole?” The other hitman shrugged. “Oh... you know. I told them about the time when the old man took us to the brothel.” “Yes, and I have to say, I would have paid to see that too!” Regis laughed amused. Not deigning that comment worth an answer, Cor remained where he stood, ignoring the raised eyebrow Titus regarded him with. “Since you both are still alive, I take it your talk went well?!” “Yes...” Cor said, shifting Iris in his arms to hold her better, but the girl kept wriggling too much and he almost dropped her if it had not been for Titus to grab and pick her up. “Iris, let the grown-ups talk.” he said, voice warm but firm. “But uncle Titus. I wanna have cuddles! Now!” Cor carded his fingers through the girl’s hair. “If I give you one, will you be good?” Iris’ face lit up and she nodded eagerly. Titus put the girl down and watched as the man stiffly put his arms around her. With a giggle, she let go and ran back to Clarus. “Uncle Cor smells like uncle Titus. That’s so funny.” Three. Two. One... eyes going wide in realization, Clarus just looked back and forth between his little girl and the two men, too shocked to say anything. That however, was not the case for Ardyn who was doubling over the chair he was sitting in, laughing. “Naughty...” Cor snarled threateningly but the man simply ignored him. “I am glad...” Regis stated, smiling. “But what now? Both of you are wanted men. And what will you do about Gilgamesh? Obviously, he is willing to go to certain lengths to get you back, Cor.” “I will talk to him.” “Brother dearest, you and I both know what will happen when you talk to each other. It didn’t end well before, and it won’t end well now.” Ardyn deadpanned, giving him one of those ‘I know better than you’ looks. “He let you go! He lets you do whatever you want. Why wouldn’t he do the same with me?” “Uhm, because you’re you and I’m me?!” As if that explained everything – and Cor’s scowl told him exactly that, so, Ardyn elaborated with a dramatic exhale. “He trained you to be like him. Invested so much effort into your training. He won’t ever let you go. You’re like a dog: always faithful, following orders and when you're not needed, you stay in your room. When he tells you to jump, you ask how far!” the hitman glared at the other man angrily, he wanted to retort that it was not true, but that would have been a lie. “See... you can’t even negate it. What are you going to do, hm? Because, the way I see it, you can’t have both. You can’t stay with these guys here and do what he asks you to do. People like us don’t mingle with the ‘normal folk’. Maybe I could, but you’re... you know!” Ardyn got up and walked towards his companion who was still glaring. “The moment you go back, he’ll put you back into detention and when he’s done with you, you’ll be his little boy again or dead. So, dear brother, do tell me what you’re intending to talk to him about?” A long moment of silence followed. Then, “I don’t know...” Cor pressed out between gritted teeth. “Ardyn. Cor.” Both hitmen stopped, confused – for a moment, they had forgotten that they were surrounded by other people. Then, they looked at Regis. “Maybe today is not the best of days for this. Let us enjoy a moment of respite. And then we will return to the problem at hand with a fresh mind.” The maroon-haired hitman crunched his face together, contemplating. “Well, it’s not like we’ve got any work lined up... but I’m not sure how the old man will feel about me taking brother-dearest for a night-out in town. He already told me to go back to Europe after all.” At that, blue eyes moved and Cor looked at Ardyn, frowning. “He told you to leave? For an assignment?” “Nope, he doesn’t need me around anymore since you’re back. So, he’s sending me off. Easy-peasy.” “When did he tell you?” “Hm... after we returned from ARL.” Cor nodded quietly, there was not much else he could do anyway – why did he feel so upset about this? Ardyn exhaled slowly, shrugging. “Let’s go back before he notices something.” “No.” “What?” “I can't. I need... to think. I don’t know anymore...” The other man nodded. “Fine, let’s go someplace. I’m sure there’s a nice hotel around.” “No.” What?” This dialogue was incredibly eloquent, was it not? “I will go alone. I don’t want anyone around.” With that, the man turned around and left the room. 

After Cor had separated from the others, they had worked out the next steps. They had agreed to keep Ardyn around, so, Drautos had called up Ulric and told him he would have to take in a stray hitman for the night and he expected him to pick the man up from the hospital. Ulric had not been too impressed by it, but conceded – Clarus had no spare rooms left, since all the kids stayed at his place for the time being. And Drautos had zero interest in ‘babysitting’, as he had called it – Ardyn had commented with “you’re just angry for having been stood up” which had earned him a threatening glare from the Captain. Sometime later, everyone had made their way back to their respective homes, leaving Regis in his uncomfortable hospital bed, reading. Around twenty-two-hundred hours, Regis heard a quiet knock on the door. Curious, he put the book away and asked whoever was there to enter. His tired eyes lit up at the sight of the other man, but he frowned a little when he saw how dishevelled he looked. “Are you alright, Cor?” Immediately, blue eyes found those green ones and he shrugged – he did not know if he was alright. “Don’t just stand there like a kicked puppy. Come over, take a seat.” Reluctantly, he walked over, but did not sit down, rather he remained in parade rest, gaze focussed on the wall. That earned him a quizzical look from the other. “I am not Gilgamesh, Cor, I don’t expect you to be like this.” “It’s more comfortable for me. This, or seiza.” Regis nodded quietly. The man wiggled himself into the blankets and made himself a little more comfortable, waiting for the other man to start talking of his own accord. 

After what felt like an eternity, the man shifted slightly, inhaling deeply. “The most important rule was to never lie, doubt or question. He said that was the difference between us and the rest; us against everyone else.” Another deep inhale. “We don’t just kill, we do it because it’s right. Our targets don’t deserve to live – they are corrupt and the law holds no power over them, they believe to be powerful. Thus, we must pass judgement on their strength. We break the law so others don’t have to. It is righteous.” Again, silence. When Cor did not continue, Regis looked at him. The hitman still had his gaze focussed on that imaginary point on the wall, trademark scowl on his face. “The earliest memory I have is waking up to a man with a mask, multiple broken bones, a severe head concussion and no memory of who I was. I didn’t even understand the language those people were talking in. I spent months in bed. He was the only one to come by. He gave me a choice, either to be left behind or to become stronger – and I chose...” A low hiss escaped Cor’s lips. “So why would he lie to me?” “Sometimes, when people care, they do things they normally wouldn’t. I mean, we locked you up just to keep you around and talk to you. In hindsight, that was probably not the smartest thing either, despite meaning well. Perhaps, that’s his way of showing that he cares?” Regis supplied carefully, seeing the other man shake his head. “Attachments are not allowed, he said so himself.” “Cor, you can’t just switch off emotions... feelings. They happen no matter what. Even though you don’t remember, you still feel connected to us on some level, don’t you?” A curt nod. “So why would he not feel a connection to you? You feel a connection to him as well, right?” Another nod, more reluctant this time. “He’s like a father, a teacher...” “You sound like you dislike that.” “Attachments are not allowed.” Regis inhaled deeply before exhaling very slowly. “Step away from all those rules for a moment, Cor. And look at it from a different angle. Think about his actions, and about yours. Then, tell me what you see.” Cor’s scowl deepened; thinking. A couple of minutes passed before he spoke again, “If he cared, why would he want me to kill you?” “Maybe because he thinks we will take you away from him. We were, no... we are family. And we represent the law. We are meant to stop people like you, no matter your intentions. He’s also old. He needs someone to take over when he can’t do it any longer.” “So, all I am in the end is just a replacement?” Cor grumbled. “That’s not what I meant to say...” Regis started, but thinking it through, that was exactly what he had said! He wanted to elaborate, when he heard the quiet whisper, “But I tried so hard...” Sympathetically, Regis watched the other man desperately trying to reign in the tremors rippling through him and eventually fail. “I gave it all up, everything... for him.” “Cor...” When the other man did not react, Regis tried again... and again. “Cor Leonis! Come here and get yourself a hug.” Glassy blue eyes met stubborn green ones and he moved, slowly, towards the bed, kneeling on it with his leg; careful not to touch the other man. But that other man had different intentions, he grabbed Cor and pulled him down so that he lay partially on top of his legs. Before he could pull back, Regis embraced him. “It’s okay, you know? You can let go. Nobody will know.” And Cor did. 

They had remained in this position for a while, Cor slightly covered by a blanket, Regis carding through his hair. Close to midnight, when the night nurse had checked in on him, she had been ready to throw Cor out, threatening to call security when he downright ignored her presence. After a heated argument between said nurse and Regis, Cor had finally gotten up – his trademark scowl back on his face, no sign of red eyes or blushed cheeks. Before he left, Regis had given him an address where he could stay the night. And he intended to do just that; snarling at the night nurse in passing, exiting the hospital, heading towards his motorcycle. It took him a little to find the correct address in his GPS, but once he did, he had left. Now, Cor was standing in front of a closed door, angry about himself for not having asked Regis for the damn key. Well, another mistake down the line... but at this point, what did it matter, right? He pulled out his always-present lock-picks and went to work. Within two seconds, the lock ‘clicked’ and the door opened. Glancing around one last time, he slipped into the apartment, shutting the door behind him. The apartment was quiet, warm and lit by the moonlight shining through the windows. Walking down the corridor, he slowly passed by a small kitchen straight to the living room. He took in his surroundings: there were two doors – one for the bedroom and one for the bathroom, he assumed. He frowned; Regis had a son, should there not be another room? This place looked more like a one-person place. Or was it a safehouse? Too tired to care, he shrugged out of his jacket and undid his combat boots, placing them neatly next to the sofa. Then, he walked over to one of the two doors, he needed a shower. He opened the door to his right and walked in, not too quietly. It was a bedroom; lit up by the light coming through the windows. It covered the small room into a calm blue hue: the opposite wall, the bed and the large figure that was sleeping in there – wait, what? His gaze moved back to the sleeping person and he nearly lost it. Frozen, he stared as Titus Drautos rolled onto his back, throwing an arm over his head, snoring lightly. Well... now, this made more sense – actually, no, not really! His mind was failing him, why would Regis send him here, what did he expect him to do, what the hell was going on? He swallowed; he should not be here, he should leave. Now! Closing the door quietly, he took a step back, not moving further. “Fuck.” he muttered and walked to the other door – he seriously needed to piss. Contemplating for a moment, he made his decision and pushed the door open. Bathroom indeed! He flicked on the light and moved over to the toilet. When he was done, he flushed and washed his hands, glancing over to the shower. It was tempting, and he was tired... and he really, really wanted that shower. “Tough...” he growled and peeled himself out of his remaining clothes, folding them properly, putting them onto the washing machine. Quietly, he stepped into the cubicle and started the shower. Leaning against the tiled wall, he closed his eyes and relaxed under the warm water – it always seemed to do the trick for him. Opening his eyes slightly, he looked for shower gel, but only found a scent-free bar of soap. He took it and started to lather up. 

Barely five minutes later he stepped out of the cubicle, ready to grab the towel off the hook when something soft hit his face. Pulling at it, he realized it was another towel. Confused, Cor looked towards the door and found it open, a grumpy looking Titus leaning against it. “Dry off and come to bed.” he said gruffly, turning around and leaving the other man to finish. Once dry, he wrapped the towel around his hips, took his folded clothes, put them next to his boots and jacket and walked over to the bedroom. Titus was already in bed, dozing away, the lamp on his nightstand was illuminating the room in warm orange, having chased away the light blue hue from earlier. Cor looked at the man – really looked at him: he had one leg propped up, the blanket covering part of his mid-section, the deep red-coloured pyjama bottoms covering the rest. His chest was moving slowly with each breath the man took; the man was heavily muscled, more than he was. And there were those white lines of scarred tissue that he knew he had as well. The stubble he was sporting made him look... feral, for a lack of better wording. It did suit him though. “You going to stay there and stare all night or what?” the man grumbled without opening his eyes and Cor snapped back into focus. He walked over to the empty side of the bed and sat down. With a ‘click’ the light was switched off, and the room was once again covered in blue. He lay onto his back and stared at the ceiling; he should have left, but no... he had to be too damn stubborn again. On the other hand, he felt comfortable and he refused to get up again. Besides, did this not count as ‘later’ – it would be nice if it did... 

Rubbing his hands over his face, Cor bit his tongue to not start swearing – did he really have to think about that? Now? He certainly had other things he should be dealing with than their debauchery from earlier, no matter how nice it had felt. “I can hear you thinking. Stop it!” Titus’ low voice grumbled next to him. Cor turned his head towards the other man and found himself pulled into those pale blue eyes. “I can’t...” He said quietly. “Can’t or won’t?” “Both? I think.” Titus hummed at that response and a moment of silence followed. “What are you thinking about?” Rolling onto his right, Cor pulled his arm under his head. “That I should’ve left.” “Why didn’t you?” Titus rolled onto his left, mirroring the other’s position. “I wanted a shower. And I...” When Cor did not continue, the other man cocked a brow, but remained silent. “... figured, this might categorize as ‘later’.” The other man snorted amused, earning himself an unimpressed glare, but he kept his gaze focussed. A moment later, Cor asked, “What are you thinking about?” “That you should’ve left.” Frowning, he felt a little taken aback by Titus’ quick response – so much for that. “You should’ve left because right now, I’m considering to turn you around and fuck you raw.” Oh, okay. Well... that certainly was not a statement he had expected to follow the first, but who was he to complain – the thought alone sent a shiver down his back. Swallowing hard, he dared, “Then, why don’t you?” and pulled the towel open. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think i can write drama well... enjoy.


	24. ... then, deal with the consequences appropriately

When Titus did not move, Cor frowned, wondering if his response had been the wrong one. When the man continued to stare at him like he had kicked some newly-born puppy, he felt heat rise to his cheeks – what did regular people do in such a situation; leave? “I better go.” he muttered and scrambled to sit up, but a strong hand grabbed his short hair and pulled him down again. A second later, he felt warm lips press against his own – it was short, but it was enough to spark that feeling of excitement. “You’re staying!” The Captain rumbled and rolled onto his back, pulling the other man along. Cor followed on all fours, the hand in his hair not letting go in the slightest. To make himself more comfortable, he pulled one leg over the other man’s body, without sitting down though, all the while keeping his head down, trying to lock lips with the taller man again. When it became evident that he would not succeed, Cor snarled. Titus chuckled amused and feigned a bite. “Demanding, much?” “Fuck you!” “I don’t think so.” With that, Titus pressed his palm against Cor’s chest and pushed him upright, so the hitman was propped up on his knees over him – it reminded him a little of their position back on the mats; he liked to have the other above him. When Cor was out of his reach, he let his hands drop to the other man’s thighs, squeezing the lean muscle. Giving the man a once-over, he said, “Touch yourself.” Cor frowned at the man underneath him, confused. After a moment, he wordlessly grabbed his cock, starting to stroke it – his eyes never leaving the other's pale blue orbs. Roughly, the hitman moved his fingers around the glans and pulled at the skin while his index finger was tracing along the slit, it hurt a little, but it was not like he minded that. Cor’s second hand moved up to his pectoral, pressing his nails into it, leaving red marks behind when he scratched down all the way to his belly button, a small gasp escaping his lips. He was acutely aware of the Captain’s hands on his thighs – they had started sliding over his skin, the thumbs drawing small circles on the insides. When he involuntarily bucked into his hand, Titus tightened his grip immediately, causing him to snarl again. 

Keeping his gaze locked with the other, the Captain propped himself up against the pillows and the wall. He pulled his legs closer to his body and pressed a knee into Cor’s back, causing him to fall forward; his hands pushed into the wall to hold himself up as to not fall onto the other man. Before he could utter a word of question, Titus’ hands moved from his thighs to his fully erect cock. A satisfied grunt escaped him. Unable to hold his gaze any longer, Cor buried his head into his shoulder, closing his eyes – enjoying the feel of those rough fingers. When one hand moved to tug and squeeze his balls, he did not bother holding back the low groan. “Titus...” The man leaned up and pressed a kiss against Cor’s heaving chest. “Patience.” he said, moving on to rub over the man’s perineum. “I don’t have lube. Need to get you ready though.” Once more, the Captain brushed his fingers over the sensitive skin around the hitman’s balls, while squeezing the glans and the other could feel his cock leak even more precum. Cor bit into his deltoid, refusing to let any more noises escape him and he could hear Titus chuckle. The man moved his fingers quickly through the precum before they returned to where they had been before, tracing along Cor’s perineum further along to the tight ring of muscles forming his anus. “Relax.” he breathed and pushed one finger in. “Fuck...” Rather than relaxing, the hitman tensed up from the unfamiliar intrusion, his body going rigid. He tried to move away, but the hand that was on his cock a second ago, moved to his hip and held him in place. “I said: relax.” Titus barked in that commanding voice and Cor froze. Slowly, he forced his body to comply. “That’s it. Good. Come here...” And he did; he lowered himself down, placing his hands onto the Captain’s strong chest. Then, they kissed; Cor’s tongue darted into Titus’ hot mouth and pushed eagerly against the other's which defiantly fought back. The taller man used the little distraction to push his finger further into the hitman while his other hand started playing with the leaking cockhead again. 

Breaking the kiss, Titus whispered a quiet, “Adding another.” into Cor’s ear and the man jerked his head in understanding. When he felt the man relax, he pushed a second finger in. Cor hissed and dropped his head against Titus’ forehead, his body slightly shaking from holding his position over the man. “You’ve got to hold on a little longer. You’re doing good.” And the man relaxed a little more – seems the other was very receptive to praise, he could work with that. The Captain started moving his fingers slowly: in, out, curling, scissoring. All the while, Cor kept pressing his nails into his pectorals and breathed against his ear; it felt good, it had been some time. “One more.” “I can take it...” came the breathy response and Titus traced the thick vein on the underside of Cor’s shaft, humming. “I know you can. You’re doing good.” Pushing in, he waited until the man over him relaxed, listening to him hissing – they were only mere inches apart, but he could feel the hitman so much, and he admitted to himself that he was approaching the limit of his patience. With all three fingers inside, Titus started moving a little faster than before. Trying to find that one spot... and when he did, Cor arched his back and shot straight back up. “Fuck... what was that?” he gasped but did not receive an answer; instead, he was pulled back down again for another kiss. When the Captain moved his fingers over that spot again, Cor bucked his hips, not sure whether to move away or towards it – not that it actually mattered. “Feel good?” “Yes...” “Good. I want you to get off and then on all fours. Understood?” Again, Titus moved over that spot and Cor almost purred. When he did not respond, he tugged at his balls, eliciting a short snarl. “Understood?” “Yes... yes.” And then those fingers were gone, leaving an empty feeling behind. Cor moved off the Captain and the other man stood up while he positioned himself on the bed. He could hear the other spit and then get himself behind him. A strong hand traced along his spine, pushing between his shoulder blades and him down into the sheets. “It’ll hurt, but it’ll feel good.” A moment of silence, then, “And you might have difficulty walking tomorrow.” “Why?” Titus did not reply, instead, he aligned his painfully hard cock with Cor’s entrance and pushed in. Right. To. The. Hilt. And Cor cried out – he felt so full that he tried to move away. Unfortunately, moving away meant for him to pull off Titus’ cock and at that, both men groaned, the feeling being too much. Grabbing Cor’s hips, the Captain pulled him back into position; burying himself back into the warm body. “Fuck... Titus.” Well... the man had given him fair warning, had he not? When he felt a hand slide across his lower back, he turned his head as much as his position allowed it to see the other. The Captain's chest was heaving, pressing out laboured breaths. A deep frown carved into his expression. When his eyes opened, the pale blue colour was almost gone, only a thin circle remained around the dilated pupils – for a moment, he wondered if he looked the same. “I don't think I can go easy on you.” Before he could ask what the man had meant, Titus pulled out almost all the way just to snap his hips forward and bury himself inside him again. And the hitman cried out again. 

If that was not erotic, he did not know what was. Titus pulled back out and rammed into the body before him, watching the man’s muscles quiver, conveniently ignoring the drops of blood that accompanied his thrusts. He pulled out and forced himself back in all the way. He did it again. And again... trying to find the best angle to hit Cor’s prostate. And find it, he did. He thrust into the hitman’s tight heat relentlessly, listening to the man’s screams as they turned from pained to pleasured, accompanied by that smacking sounds of skin hitting skin. When he felt Cor move against him, he slowed a little to allow him to get used to the rhythm. Once he did, Titus picked up the pace again. “Titus...” Cor moaned, pushing himself up on his arms. “Fuck...” Another moan. “Touch me!” Cor practically screamed the words out when another hit nailed his prostate. The Captain obliged, leaned forward and grabbed the hitman’s arm, pulling him back and up. Cor let himself be led and when he could feel a strong chest against his back, he let his head fall backwards. He hummed appreciatively when he could feel Titus’ hands roam over his front, pull at his nipples and then move to his ribs and further down to his cock. While one hand moved back up, the other remained where it was, swiping at the sensitive cockhead. When he felt a finger press into his slit, his hands moved backwards to grab onto the other man’s strong frame, trying to steady himself. Every time the other man brushed over that sensitive spot inside him, Cor made a wailing noise, pushing his hips backwards for more friction. The more he moved back, the more Titus’ finger pressed into his urethra. He was unable to get away from it as the Captain used enough force in his movements to have Cor’s own hips snap forward every time he pushed in, not allowing him to escape his grip. Cor almost choked on his own moan when the finger slid further inside his cock, but it only added to the weird mix of pain and pleasure. When he was close, he did not have to say anything, Titus knew – felt it. He removed his finger, twisted his hand around the glans and pushed against his swollen prostate with a particularly powerful thrust and then Cor came undone. His body went taut and he could feel a wave of utmost pleasure ripple through his muscles. He cummed into Titus’ hand and spasmed around the still moving cock inside him. Continuing his relentless assault, the tall Captain kept thrusting into him despite the tightness. He heard the man behind him grunt, push in as far as he could and cum as well, the overstimulation making Cor groan deeply. 

Cor could still feel Titus move lazily inside him while he tried to get his breathing back under control. The hand across his chest moved up and turned his head to the side, pulling him into a kiss. Cor moved his hand into the other man’s short hair, moving his hips in the same slow rhythm the other had set until he could feel Titus pull out. When the Captain started to press small pecks onto his neck, Cor pulled his head around to allow him free reign, earning himself a low rumble. The hand that held him pulled away and pressed into his back, pushing him forward. With a surprised yelp, Cor landed on his lower arms, turned onto his back and stared at Titus, growling. Just like before, the other man licked his hand clean, then grabbed the discarded towel and wiped himself off. Next, he bent down, grabbed one of Cor’s legs, opening him up and started wiping the insides of Cor’s thighs, his flaccid cock all the way down to his abused hole, removing the blood and semen. When the man was done, Cor watched him throw the towel onto the floor. “Thank... you.” he muttered shyly, knowing full well that his cheeks and ears were bright red. Titus grunted and plopped himself onto his side, making himself comfortable before pulling Cor in and forcing him to become the small spoon. Breathing into the man’s neck, he whispered tiredly, “Sleep. Talk later.” Cor did not need to be told twice; his head blissfully at peace, he was able to finally fall asleep. 

The first time Cor woke, it was to the distant sound of an alarm clock that was as quickly silenced as it had started to rip through the peace and quiet. When he started to stir, a low voice ordered him to continue sleeping. He did not mind it, frankly, he was still too tired to get up, so, he pulled the blanket over his head and passed out again. The second time Cor woke, it was to a pulsing pain in his backside. It hurt more each time he moved, eventually it became too much and it woke him properly. Sitting up, he hissed painfully – had Titus not mentioned something about pain last night? Snorting unamused, he massaged the bridge of his nose. Looking around, he found the bed empty, Titus’ side cold; the man having been gone for some time now. Letting his gaze wander, he noticed the towel was gone. Eventually, his eyes fell onto a piece of paper on the nightstand. Stretching a little, he reached for it, but regretted it immediately when his backside flared up. Cussing, he grabbed the paper and pulled back into a more comfortable position. _Work – stay. Talk later. BEHAVE! T._ He frowned; the man wrote his notes just like anything else he did: to the point. And what did he mean by ‘behave’ – it was not like he would blow up this place or something. With a sigh, he heaved himself out of bed, ignoring the pain by sheer force of will. With a slight limp, he walked into the living room to get his clothes... which were not where he had left them. His combat boots and jacket were still there, but the rest was gone; instead, there was a fresh set of grey slacks and a black shirt laid out. He grabbed them and continued into the bathroom – he needed a shower; all he could smell was the other man’s scent. 

After a long hot shower and some much-needed hygiene – Titus had laid out a razor and a toothbrush, he felt so spoiled – he had made himself some food. Afterwards, he had grabbed himself a book off the shelf and retreated to the sofa. The Book of Five Rings, a text on the general application of martial arts; of course, a man like Titus Drautos would have read such a book. Gilgamesh had made him read this book when he had been younger. He had not understood it back then, but the man made him re-read it multiple times throughout his life and the older he got, the more experience he gained, the more it actually made sense. He had spent four hours reading before he decided that he needed to move. So, he had moved on to his daily workout routine, no matter whether his backside agreed or not! Around eighteen-hundred hours he had finished his second shower and meal. Currently, he was sitting comfortably in seiza, meditating, his mind going over the events of the past couple of months: he had tried and failed to neutralize his targets. Despite his attempts to fight it, those men had wormed their way into his heart just like that. He had to admit to himself that he did not like the fact of killing them. Even if he should... there was something that did not let him. And that something felt strangely similar to what he felt for his mentor. This was a problem, he knew. And he needed to resolve it. Considering the fact that all Gilgamesh wanted him for was to become his replacement hurt. He might not want to admit it, but the man was like a father and he had tried to make him proud. Now, he just felt used, even though he had chosen this path himself. A path he could not easily deviate from – what was he supposed to do after all? He did not exist; the man called Cor Leonis had died years ago. He may have had a good education, but it was not like Gilgamesh had actually sent him to a school or anything. Ardyn was right, he could not be like them, he would never fit in. Neither option was possible, and yet he needed to choose... 

When Cor opened his eyes, he had decided on what to do. He scrambled over to his boots and put them on. He got up and walked over to the bedroom while slipping on his jacket. He grabbed the paper note and pen, writing down a quick message. Then, he turned on his heel and left the apartment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone!!! told me to fix the typos... so i did go back and fixed the damn typos... I apologize for that many bad typos everywhere so far. :D I shall do better ... enjoy.


	25. Down and out

The alarm had set off too early for his liking. He could have easily slept in, but work was calling. When the man next to him had started to move, he had rumbled a “sleep” into his ear and the man grabbed the covers and pulled them over his head. Titus had gotten up and left the room, only to emerge 10 minutes later; fully dressed and ready for work. After having cleaned up and written a quick note, he had headed out. 

As soon as he had walked into the office, he could already hear loud commotion. Blatantly ignoring it, he had walked straight to the kitchen to get coffee, not ready to have his mood ruined so early on. A little later, he found out that Ulric and Izunia had gotten into some fight – apparently, they had dropped the heavy weights onto the floor, resulting in a small hole in the ground, which in turn Ulric had tried to cement over, failing miserably and making things worse. They had to call in a professional for that, and once again, Titus was impressed by the havoc the younger agent could cause – wishing he could just go back to his place. Once settled in his office, he had shifted into ‘work mode’ and started on the ever-increasing pile of case reports on his desk. 

He had been on a good roll, effectively catching up on the data Elshett had summarized from the ARL incident, when the door to his office burst open, revealing a too happy-looking Ardyn Izunia – did all hitmen wear this many unnecessary layers of clothes? “Why are you here, Izunia?” “Oh, you know... ‘Captain’... I want to know how my brother is doing! Regis said, he sent him over to your place.” So, that was how the other man had ended up at his apartment. “Sleeping.” came the crisp response before Drautos turned his attention back to the report in his hands. “Uh-hu... sleeping. My brother is an early-riser.” “Not today.” the taller man replied at which Izunia narrowed his eyes, giving him an assessing look. Apparently, whatever he had concluded, did not please him as he folded his arms across his chest, tapping his foot loud enough to be irritating. Not that it actually bothered the Captain. Drautos kept his gaze focussed on the text, frowning – the information was concerning. He got up and left the small room, heading towards where Elshett was situated. 

“... crazy, I’m telling you! Batshit crazy. Ow.” “Shut up and take it.” “It’s your own fault, mate, so don’t complain.” Clearing his throat, Drautos stared at the scene playing out in front of him, and for the second time already he hoped this day would go by quickly, so he could get back to his apartment. Ulric was sprawled across the table and Elshett, standing behind him, was holding onto his hip and one leg, pulling. Khara was sitting in a chair, legs propped up on the desk, sipping some orange juice. “It's not what it looks like, Captain...” Ulric started, but the other man just ignored him, his face not revealing anything. He walked over to Elshett and showed her the paragraph he had been reading. Her eyes scanned over it and she nodded. Twisting Ulric’s spine until it cracked, she said, “I know. It is just an assumption, but I think it would be the best course of action to follow-up on this. The off-shore account Ulldor used was linked to some unidentified location. My concern is that he might have done some more tests with that drug. We still don’t know the exact connection between him and Aldercapt.” Another twist, followed by a pained groan. “General Highwind has her hands full with the investigations on-site, but she has no authority outside, so she asked us to look into this. Unfortunately, we have not been able to identify the location – Ulldor used some high-grade military encryption that takes a lot of effort to bypass.” Another twist, a really loud ‘crack’ and Ulric slumped onto the desk, sobbing slightly. “Have you informed Clarus?” “No, we figured you guys had a lot on your plate already, so we’ve been working on this on our own.” Drautos nodded. “There’s no need for that, but the sentiment is appreciated. I will talk to Clarus; might as well inform Regis about it. Keep trying to find that location. If there is any more of this research, we’re shutting it down.” Pulling his phone out, the Captain walked out the room. “And Elshett.” “Yes?” “Make it hurt a little more, will you? He deserves it.” “What? No, no, come on, Captain!!! Help! Pelna... Ow... fuck... ah-hah-ha! Help!” Enjoying the pained howls, Drautos waited for Clarus to pick up his phone. This case was getting worse every single time they found out something new – who knew how many people were actually involved in this. “Titus... what’s up?” came Clarus’ voice through the phone. “You in your office?” “Actually, I just left. Needed to send the kids off to the safehouse again. Headed towards another Board meeting now. How important is it?” “Quite, but nothing that can’t wait. Call me back when you’re done.” Without waiting for a response, the Captain hung up, dialling the next number. After a few rings, a female voice answered, “Highwind.” “Hey, you got some time?” “I do, Grizzly. What do you need?” “Someone skilled in encrypting military-grade computer stuff. There might be a chance of Ulldor having experimented outside the facility.” He could hear Highwind hum. “Got it, I can’t leave right now. Seems Besithia has been partaking in a lot of furtive activities here as well. This is a really big shithole that needs cleaning. I’ll send someone I trust over to help.” “Thanks...” “Don’t sweat it, Grizzly. Whatever this is, it’s big, so we gotta bring out the big guns.” 

Afternoon had come around quickly. Drautos had managed to sign-off on a couple more case files, he had sentenced Lazarus to two weeks meal-duty and thrown out Izunia four times – the last time even cuffing him to a metal pole at the reception, just so that the man stopped being a royal pain. With much disdain, he had to realize that not even that would stop the man from wreaking havoc in the office, so, he had assigned Ulric once more to babysitting-duty. Strangely, at that the hitman’s face had lit up, mischief glistening in his eyes and all he could hear from then on were Ulric’s desperate cries to be left alone – perhaps, he should consider keeping the man around, if he had such an effect on the younger agent. After all, that meant he did not have to worry about being pestered all day long. He did change his mind though, when he heard said agent shoot at the hitman, who was running along the corridor to escape. That stunt earned Ulric four weeks of gym-cleaning-duty. Yes, his day had been incredibly productive! 

When the evening approached, Clarus had finally given him a call back and was headed toward his office. Just a few minutes later, someone knocked on his door. “Enter.” When a man in uniform entered and saluted, Drautos looked up. “Captain Wedge Kincaid, sir. General Highwind said you need help with security encryption and tracking. The General informed me about your case.” That woman worked fast – he made a mental note to make sure to send her a little gift for her birthday. “Go out that door, turn right and walk down the corridor to the end. There, you’ll find a woman with short hair and a few guys around. Monica Elshett will update you on what she needs.” “Yes, sir.” Saluting again, the man turned stiffly and left his office. Before he could close the door, however, someone else entered – it was Clarus. Throwing the Captain a questioning look, he shrugged. “Elshett needed some help with computer stuff.” “Ah...” Clarus took a seat and placed a small white plastic bag onto the desk. “This is for you. I am sure you haven’t eaten much today.” Oh, right... that was what he had forgotten! Drautos had the decency to look a little sheepish when he checked the bag for its contents. “Chicken-pasta salad. Thanks. I’ll have it later.” “You’re having it now, while we’re talking.” While taking out the plastic box and pulling off the lid, he started, “Elshett, Khara and Ulric have been digging deeper into Ulldor and found a hidden off-shore account. It was completely separate from the others, so they missed it the first time around. The security on that thing also seems quite hard to crack, which is why Highwind sent over Kincaid to help. Elshett believes there is another research facility where he has continued the same research Besithia did at ARL. She found some information that indicates they had tested this... drug... on Aldercapt’s victims. All those kidnappings seem to be linked to that. She found this name...” rummaging around the files on his desk, Drautos tried to find the right page. “Project Deathless. They found this name scattered among the data but there is not enough evidence to what it actually entitles and how it links to Besithia’s research and the kidnappings. However, following common sense, nothing about this project can be good.” Clarus nodded quietly; thinking. “But wasn’t Besithia’s research about improving overall stamina and strength in soldiers? How does that relate? That’s some kind of weird name for a project.” “You haven’t seen those kids, Clarus. Leonis jumped onto the boy’s ribs and they dented inwards. And he still stood back up. That wasn’t normal!” “I hear you. So... we’re going to find out where that other facility is, take it out and hope for the best.” Swallowing down another bite, the Captain nodded. “Something like that.” Clarus leaned back, sighing heavily. “On top of that, we still have to deal with three hitmen. I feel like I am part of one of those crappy TV-Drama-Shows.” The other man hummed. “What did the Board say about that anyway?” “Well, so far, they only think we are dealing with two hitmen: the Immortal and the Adagium. They won’t like it if I tell them that without those two, we would’ve never uncovered what Besithia has been doing down in his lab, or Ulldor for that matter.” “Tough shit.” “That reminds me, Reggie’s been looking into legal to see what needed to be done to re-instate a person back to life.” “You should talk to Leonis first before doing anything stupid.” Clarus laughed quietly. “We’re talking about Reggie, Titus... but he did promise to ‘just look’ into this. Nothing else.” The man nodded and finished up his salad. “How are they doing anyway?” “Izunia joined the other kids. I have Ulric babysit him. Leonis is at my place.” “You let Izunia into the office?” Surprised, Clarus stared at the other man, who just shrugged. “Wasn’t me. He was already here when I arrived. Ask Ulric. By the way, they broke the flooring in the gym. I’ll send the invoice over soon.” Uttering a few curses, Clarus shook his head. “I don’t wanna know how you can keep this calm.” “You’re right, you don’t.” After a moment of silence, Clarus continued. “I was thinking...” “Oh oh...” “It’s not that bad. Just listen: maybe we could get Ardyn and Cor help us catch Gilgamesh.” “And then?” “I haven’t gotten that far.” “I see...” Again, silence. “I doubt we should meddle with this, Clarus. It is their 'family business’. They’re old enough to sort this out on their own.” “It doesn’t look like they can sort it out though.” “We tried to meddle before and it only got Regis shot. Have a little faith in them.” A loud noise sounded through the door, then, “I’m going to skin you alive, you fucking red-head. You hear me? Stop running away!” Clearing his throat, the Captain corrected his statement. “I meant, have a little faith in Leonis. He's smart enough not to screw this up.” Clarus just hid his face in his hands. 

At twenty-hundred hours they decided to wrap things up for the day. Drautos had stayed longer than intended, simply to hunt down Ulric and Izunia and make them regret their ridiculous behaviour by letting them run rounds in the gym until they were unable to utter a sentence without having to hold their breath. On the way back to his apartment, he had stopped to get some take-away. When he arrived at his apartment and opened the door, he was surprised to find the lights out. It was not that late and he doubted Cor was asleep. Closing the door, he flicked on the lights, dropped the food on the small table in the living room and marched on into his bedroom. His gaze fell onto the piece of paper at once. Taking a few steps forward, he picked it up and read it. Roaring out a wave of curses, he grabbed his phone and dialled Ulric’s number. It rang six times before the other man answered the phone, sounding a little out of breath. “Captain?” “Grab Izunia and get to the office. Now!” And with that, he hung up, dialling the next number. Clarus answered immediately. “Titus, what is it?” “He’s gone back.” “What... I’ll come over.” “No, meet me at the office.” “Okay...” Once he had hung up again, he was out of his apartment, heading towards his car. 

50 minutes later, the four men met in front of their headquarters. When he saw Izunia, he grabbed his coat and pulled him up and against a wall, Ulric and Clarus tried to pull him away from the other man, with little success. “You listen to me, Izunia. Leonis left and you’re going to tell us where he went to. And don’t give me that bullshit of not knowing. I wouldn't fuckin’ believe it anyway!” he snarled angrily, but the other man remained defiant, not intimidated in the least. “Are you sure he left? Perhaps he’s just out enjoying life?” “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?!” “Enough you two, that won’t help us now. Titus, let go of him.” Clarus managed to pull one of  Drautos ’ hands off the other man, but was surprised to find that it did not change anything. “Believe it or not, I actually do care. So, let. Me. Go. And I’ll help.” With one more snarl, the tall Captain let go and took a step back. Rearranging his clothes, Izunia threw him a threatening glare, before he asked, “How sure are you that he’s gone?” Grumbling,  Drautos pulled out the small note and handed it to the hitman. “Thank you? For what?” Frowning, Izunia threw the other man a questioning look, but did not receive an answer. “Does it really matter right now? If he went back, we need to find him. You have to tell us where you guys have been living the whole time.” Clarus’ voice was laced with concern, but Izunia shook his head. “I can’t tell you.” “He’s your brother!” the other man yelled angrily. “I know. But...” A hand grabbed his chin and turned his head forcefully to the side. “That guy has killed someone very close to me just because she was in his reach; you know him best, what do you think will he do to him, hm?” Izunia grabbed Ulric’s hand and pulled it away from his chin, keeping eye contact for a second longer before averting his gaze. “There is a small mansion at the outskirts, close to the larger family homes that were built a few years back. It’s close to the forest.” “You mean that new villa quarter they built for rich people?” Izunia nodded. “Alright, I’ll be going with Titus. Nyx, you and Ardyn will be riding together. We’ll follow your lead.” With that, the four men got going. 

When they arrived at the mansion, everything was quiet; the front door slightly ajar. Ardyn had been the first to sprint through and turn corners just to end up in their training hall. Stopping dead in his tracks, he remained at the door until the others arrived, the hair on his neck standing up; a tell-tale sign that something was amiss. When Ulric switched on the light, he wished he had not done so. There, in the middle of the room, covered in what looked like litres of blood, lay one Cor Leonis. One hand clutching his abdomen, the other still wrapped around a broken katana – breathing going erratically, a pained noise escaping his throat every now and then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> work and training keep me busy, thus, I'm a little late... but do enjoy. :)


	26. Picking up what's left

“Fuck, no, no, no...” Ardyn raced over and practically threw himself into a crouch. Forcing Cor’s fingers open, he removed the broken weapon from his grasp. “You very stupid man! What have you done?” he whispered, wiping the sweat off the other man’s forehead. When Clarus and Drautos joined him, they worked fast, assessing the large gash in his abdomen. Snapping his fingers in front of the other man’s face, Clarus frowned. “Titus, he's not responding. We need to get him out of here.” “Yeah, that’s not happening. We need to stop the bleeding first. Ulric, go look for something to stop the bleeding.” “He’s so cold...” Clarus pulled at Ardyn’s shoulder, snapping him out of it. “Go and help Nyx. Get a med-kit or something.” “I’m not leaving.” “Yes, you are. We need all hands for this! Now, move.” Nodding, the maroon-haired hitman got up and ran out of the room. Clarus could hear something tear and found the Captain press the ripped cloth of Cor’s shirt onto the wound, eliciting a painful groan. “We must pull him out of it. If he stays in shock nothing we do will help.” “How?” The man pressed further down onto the wound, blood seeping right through the cloth and his fingers. Suddenly, the body jerked and Cor howled painfully, a hand going towards where the pain was, but it was swatted away easily – Drautos ignored the fact that the hitman’s fingers were cold and his grip weak. “Captain...” Ulric and Ardyn came rushing through the door with a small box and some towels. “Prop his head up, Clarus. Izunia, I need you to bring water, lots of it, he needs to stay hydrated. Ulric, I need your help with this.” The three men moved at once. The Captain indicated Ulric to press some of the towels down onto the wound, while he opened up the med-kit and checked the contents. He grabbed needle and thread and started working. “Captain... shouldn’t we be calling an ambulance or something?” “He’ll be dead before they arrive. This is going to help keep his organs inside and allow us to transport him.” “How do you even know this shit?” “Learned it when I was stationed in Laos.” “Okay...?” Another pained cry cut through and Drautos allowed himself one look at the other’s face – Cor was pale, sweaty, his eyes unfocussed. He leaned forward a little, grabbed the hitman's hand and pulled it up to hold on to Clarus’ arm. “Not sure if you understand me right now, but this is going to hurt. I’ll sew you shut, okay?” His gaze wandered back, but he hesitated to start. Then, he opened his belt and pulled it off, handing it over to Clarus. “Put this between his teeth, so he doesn’t bite off his tongue.” When Ardyn returned, he told both men to hold Cor down and still. Ulric was instructed to clean most of the blood away so he could place the stitches properly. As soon as everyone was ready, he began. At first, Cor just wriggled a little, but when the pain finally registered in his brain, he started to twist violently against the two men, screaming and biting into the belt. “Fuck... Titus, isn’t he supposed to be weak right now?” “Put some effort into it, Clarus. He’s moving too much… fuck!” Somehow, Cor’s leg came up and kneed him into the shoulder, undoing all his work so far. “Ulric!” “On it.” The younger agent pressed the towels back onto the wound while Drautos straddled the hitman’s legs, making himself as heavy as possible. In his periphery, he could see Izunia bend down a little, whispering to the man. Whatever he said, worked. Cor calmed a little and the Captain could start again. 

What felt like an eternity was in truth just five minutes. Drautos had needed two attempts before he could successfully close the long gash. When he was done, Izunia had removed the belt and forced down half a litre of water – which turned out to be more than difficult considering the fact that Cor had passed out towards the end. Ulric had removed himself and called Khara and Elshett; they needed to secure their current location and find Gilgamesh. While walking, he tripped and almost fell forward, earning himself a questioning look from the other men when he choked on his own words mid-sentence. “Uhm... guys... you might wanna see that!” he muttered, blanching – why had nobody noticed that before? Oh, yes, because there was a bleeding body on the floor! “What is it, Ulric?” “Uhm... an arm?” “Come again?” “An arm, Boss.” The younger man crunched down and picked up the limp arm, turning towards the others. None of the men were able to comment on that, they just stared at the bloody appendage in the agent’s hands. Finally, “He cut off his arm...” came the high-pitched comment from Ardyn, the man sounded like he was about to start laughing hysterically, his lips quirking up in disbelief. “I don’t give a flying fuck about that.” Drautos grumbled and stood. “We’re getting Leonis to a hospital now, Clarus, with me. Izunia, you’re staying with Ulric.” “What? Why? No!” “Yes! You’re no Federal Agent. It will be easier for Clarus and I to come up with some ridiculous explanation for this shit.” Lifting Cor up bridal style, he left with Clarus in tow. 

After the two men had left, Ardyn allowed himself a moment of weakness. He sat down and sighed deeply, burying his head in his hands. “Hey, Red! How you holding up?” Nyx crunched down next to the other man, patting his shoulder lightly. “He always said I was a failure, a disappointment. He threw me out after another one of our fights. It was either that, or... well...” Ardyn shrugged. “Afterwards, he invested a lot into Cor’s training. The next time I met them, I barely recognized him. The little spitfire was gone and there was this cold stone wall. We may not be brothers by blood, but we spent years together; sweating, bleeding, crying – it welded together. At least that’s what I thought. Neither of us remember where we come from but unlike Cor, I refused. I refused to give myself up. I never thought Gilgamesh would do... this. I mean, Cor would follow him to the end of the earth if he had to. This makes no sense!” “Well... I would say the first mistake this dude made was to wake sleeping dogs. My educated guess is that nothing of this would’ve happened, if he hadn’t come after my Bosses. You know what they say: pride comes before the fall!” Ardyn laughed at that. “I guess... you know... that arm will give me nightmares on end.” Nyx huffed, rubbing his upper arms. “You won’t be the only one. Just waiting for that thing to start moving on its own.” When the two men heard a door thunder shut, they jolted upright, yelping. As soon as they spotted Pelna, Nyx waved him in, but when the agent saw the arm he turned around and vomited. “Yepp, definitely not the only one...” Nyx reiterated with a sheepish smile. 

The night had been shit, to say it in a nice way. Together with Monica and Pelna, Nyx had started reconstructing the events that had taken place – always under the watchful eye of Ardyn Izunia. Once done, they had checked out the rooms in the small mansion and the close surroundings, Ardyn functioning as their guide. Eventually, they had concluded that there was no trace of the old hitman; they were not even sure how he had escaped with a severed arm, suffering from blood loss. All of them were still quite impressed by the fact that Cor actually had been able to cleave that thing off – it was not easy to cut through tendons, ligaments, muscle and bone just like that. Ardyn had also told them that he was not aware of any other locations nearby where Gilgamesh could have escaped to – it was as if the guy had just disappeared without a trace. But was that not what had made him so good in the first place? 

The sun had already risen over the horizon when they were finally finished on-site. Nyx had tried to call up their Captain but the call had failed to connect. Thus, the four made their way to the hospital... well, hospitals. It took the quartet another hour to find the right hospital and when they finally found their Captain and the Boss, they did not look too happy. Both men were sprawled across the chairs in the waiting room, their clothes still covered in blood, a beeper on the table. “Sirs?” Elshett said, lightly knocking at the open door. Jerking upright, the Captain looked at the four men. “What’re you doin’ here?” he muttered and stood. “Well, we’re done at the mansion, Nyx tried to call you but you didn’t pick up. So, we figured we come by. We told Lazarus and his team to survey the larger area – perhaps they’ll find something we didn’t.” the woman explained and threw a bottle of water into his direction. “How is he?” Ardyn asked, but the other man just shrugged. “Still in surgery.” Yawning, Drautos handed the water bottle to Clarus who accepted it with a small nod. “Go home and rest. There’s nothing any of you can do right now.” Clarus said, but only got funny look from the others. “If you’re staying, I’m staying too. He’s my brother too!” The hitman marched over to the table and pulled one of the chairs out, letting himself fall into it. When he saw the Captain pull on his leather jacket, he frowned. “You’re leaving?” “Might as well. There’s work to be done.” Before he stepped over the threshold, he could hear the hitman mutter a “thought you cared” and he froze. Frankly, nobody had been able to do anything about it. Drautos had moved so fast they only heard the 'crack’ resulting from his fist connecting with the other man’s nose. Even when Ardyn landed on his ass, all he said was “oh” and then realized that his nose was bleeding... and broken. However, he was unable to do anything when a pair of strong hands grabbed the lapels of his coat, pulled him up and into the wall. “You say that again to my face, Izunia.” he spat between gritted teeth. Once again, the younger agents were onto him, trying to pull him off the hitman, who did not make things easier for them. “I said: I thought you cared. Because if you did, you’d stay!” Ardyn hissed back, with equally much contempt in his voice. “Because I do, I am leaving. To find the asshole who did this. If you don’t understand that, then that’s your problem.” “What do you hope to find if we couldn’t find anything? Do tell...” _Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._ At the noise of the beeper, everyone froze for a second, then, they scrambled out the door and down the corridor towards the entry of the ICU. A moment later, a surgeon came through the door. “Is everything alright?” Clarus asked, unable to keep his voice from shaking – this was now the second time in so many weeks that someone dear to him had to be cut open. “Yes. You should thank whoever sewed your friend together, without it, he certainly would’ve died. Even if the stitches were done in a very sloppy way. We’ve put him into a medically induced coma for the time being. I advise to come back later this week or next; we don’t expect him to wake up anytime soon. The blood loss was too severe. Since you are with the Federal Bureau, I assume you will be covering the expenses?” Seriously? “Yes... we will cover his expenses. Anything else?” Clarus growled, but the surgeon remained unimpressed. “No; have a good morning, gentlemen. Lady!” And with that, the man was gone again. “What an arrogant bastard? Maybe someone should cut him open for a change!!” Clarus exploded, once the door had closed. “I could help with that.” Ardyn supplied, but only earned himself another deep rumble from the Captain. “No killing or maiming of hospital staff. They’re actually useful. No matter their shit attitude.” “We could wait until he’s done?” Ulric chimed in, eliciting some agreeing nods from the others, even if some were a little reluctant. The group left the hospital even more reluctantly... 

Once again, the following days had become a non-stop work cycle. While Lazarus’ team was out, trying to find any trace of Gilgamesh, Ulric’s team had continued working on the Ulldor case. Elshett and Kincaid had isolated themselves into one of the meeting rooms and worked their magic on the computers. Regis had returned to office and was now following-up on any outstanding items that Clarus could not resolve without superior approval. When the man had told him about Cor, he had faltered momentarily. The only good thing about what had happened was, that they actually had something solid in the form of an arm, as ridiculous as that may have sounded. Thus, Regis decided to provide this information to the Board of Directors, breaking a few laws along the way, but it was not like he cared right now; he would be damned if he let those people take his little brother in. Izunia had agreed to play along as well – just for the sake of paying Gilgamesh back. For the time being, Gilgamesh was the Immortal, and the Adagium was still a wildcard nobody knew too much about. Little did the Board know that the man was currently living with one of their agents. For the hospital’s incidence report, they had agreed on a ‘hit and run’. A robbery gone bad; thus, the police was looking for an unknown individual running around with a ‘very sharp knife’. Conveniently, nobody had seen the assailant, so no description could be given. It was not optimal, but it was the best they could come up with; such cases would always turn cold quickly anyway, so, they did not need to bother further with this. The house turned into evidence and they justified its existence simply with having traced back information to the source of the hitmen’s hideout. For the time being, nobody was asking questions and nobody was connecting both cases. Cor had simply been at the wrong place at the wrong time! Due to some legal complications, the hitman had to be officially re-instated and ‘brought back to life’ under his birth name: Cor Leonis. They had suggested Izunia should do the same, but the man had refused, saying that he was “quite happy with the name” and he already had obtained original ID; proof of the existence of one Ardyn Izunia – nobody questioned where he got that from... or that birth certificate? With all the fires that needed tending, it was difficult for them to actually come by the hospital to visit Cor; Izunia being the exception. He had spent most of the visiting hours at his brother’s bedside, talking about ridiculous things that he had witnessed while travelling Europe. 

When the second week came around, things at work had calmed down a little, allowing Regis and Clarus to visit. Even Drautos had paid them a visit once, but it had ended with another short brawl between the hitman and the Captain – rather than visiting, the man had buried himself in work and Izunia did not appreciate that. That stunt had both men being removed by security, not allowing them to come back for a whole week. They also finally managed to finish the arrangements for Crowe Altius’ funeral – which had been delayed for too long. They all had attended, even the maroon-haired hitman, despite standing at a distance, merely watching – knowing that this could have easily been his brother. The funeral for Jared Hester had been close-family-only. His wife had not taken it too well that he had gotten himself killed and informed Clarus that she did not wish to see any of them again. 

During the third week, Elshett and Kincaid had finally decrypted more of the data. They had identified two more research labs and the Glaive had been deployed to investigate. Unfortunately for them, both locations had been cleared and no traces of anything connecting them to Ulldor, Besithia or Aldercapt existed. Evidently, there was someone else still out there, keeping the research active and cutting down on the loose ends. The only thing left behind were corpses over corpses of dead bodies, that merely provided more nightmare-material. 

Once the week’s ban had been lifted, Izunia and Drautos had visited, both at different hours, not intending to run into each other anytime soon. It had already been enough when the maroon-haired hitman showed up at their headquarters. Nevermind the fact, that the man was actually helpful at a couple of instances; the Captain deeply hated to admit that, so, he opted to remain quiet. 

Today was Saturday – week four – and the four men were all gathered around in the small room. They did not have anything to talk about, the only noise cutting through the silence was the beeping of the heart rate monitor. When the silence had become too much, Izunia and Clarus elected to bring up some lunch for everyone, just to get away for a moment. When they were gone, Titus sat down in the chair next to Cor’s bed, hiding his eyes behind his hand. “You haven’t spoken much lately, Titus.” Regis commented quietly. “I’m fine.” “Are you, my friend?” “What do you want to hear, Regis? That I feel shit? Fine, yeah, I’m fucking livid but it won’t change anything. I can't have myself be distracted by this. It won’t do... fuck!” Titus rubbed his hands over his face to calm himself. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.” Regis just smiled. “No need to apologize. I am just glad to see that you care!” “A great help that is right now...” “It’s an improvement to before.” The Captain hummed while he unintentionally started playing with Cor’s fingers – the first touch since that night; they were warm again. “I never got around to ask you what the hell you were thinking about sending him to my apartment that night.” he asked, giving his boss an annoyed look. “Well, I thought you might appreciate the visit. Besides, he couldn’t stay at the hospital. Nurse Nightmare wanted to throw him out. And don’t glare at me, Titus. I swear everyone could feel this thing going on between the two of you! That’s it, maybe you should kiss sleeping beauty awake?” Regis smiled, way too impressed by his own idea, wiggling his brows excitedly, and Titus had to roll his eyes. “You’re insufferable.” he said, trying to pull his hand away but failed when warm fingers wrapped themselves weakly around his own. Snapping his head around with a loud ‘crack’, he almost jumped out of his chair. “Regis!” The other man was by his side immediately, and they both were watching as slim fingers moved. Then, the heart rate monitor increased the beeping noises and both men looked at Cor as he started to stir. When blue eyes came into focus, all they saw were two men leaning over him, looking sad and happy and relieved and a whole lot of other things all at once – who were those two, where was he and what the fuck happened? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work's just incredibly busy right now... crazy never sleeps. Promised Gen to punch out a few more chapters, she'll have my hide if I don't... but do enjoy.


	27. Healing

The beeping of the heart rate monitor increased until the machine’s green line switched to red. Weakly, Cor started moving, more and more; his movements becoming more frantic, he grabbed at anything within his reach. While Titus ran outside to get a nurse, Regis tried to calm him. When his hands reached the feeding tube, they started pulling at it. “Cor, no... you need to stop.” While trying to pry the other man’s fingers off the long tube, Regis kept a close eye on his abdomen, hoping the violent movements would not tear open the stitches. Finally, when the nurses and a doctor arrived, he stepped away. The doctor gave him a mild sedative while the nurses removed most of the tubes and electrodes. Once Cor had calmed enough, the doctor flicked her penlight on, checking his eye’s responsiveness, all the while talking to him about every single step she took. When she was done, she looked at the four men standing at the door. Walking over, she said, “Everything looks fine. He’s responsive, but a little confused – short-term amnesia is common in people who wake up after a coma, he will also have difficulties talking until his muscles get used to it again. These symptoms should ease out over the next couple days. I’ll send someone over to bring some food. He’ll need to get used to eating solid food again and drinking – keep an eye out for any signs of pneumonia, it might happen, but not necessarily. And gentlemen... don’t cause him any stress. I’m warning you, otherwise I’ll kick your arses right outta here. And this time permanently!” And with that, the woman was gone. 

When the nurses had left and silence returned to the room, Regis stepped a little closer to the bed. Cor tried to keep his eyes on the man, but the sedative made it difficult to focus. “Cor... hey.” Regis tapped his fingers lightly against the other man’s hand before entwining their fingers. “You made us worry quite a bit, you know that?” Cor opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. After another try, he gave up and simply shook his head weakly. “That’s okay, don’t worry about it, now.” When Cor tried to sit up, he winced and found Regis’ hands on his shoulders immediately. Opening his mouth again, he tried to form a sentence, “W... wa?” Sighing annoyed, he averted his gaze and glared at the wall. “You want to know what happened?” Ardyn supplied from where he stood. A curt nod. “Well... dear brother. You got your arse kicked six ways to Sunday! That’s what happened.” Cor moved his gaze to the man with the maroon-coloured hair and tilted his head – that guy was his brother? With the sedative working in his system, the typical scowl that usually covered his features had smoothed out completely, making him look so much younger that it surprised everyone. Strolling over to the small table, Ardyn grabbed the water bottle and a plastic cup. He poured some of the liquid into it and handed it to him. He even helped him wrap his fingers around the cup. “Drink.” With shaky hands, Cor put the cup to his lips, trying to drink, but his throat had other plans. After the first few sips he started coughing and almost spilled the rest of the water over himself if Ardyn had not steadied his hand last second. Breathing heavily, he grabbed the top of the covers, right where his abdomen was underneath it. Regis placed his hand right on top of his. “You got yourself hurt really badly. So, you need to be careful when moving.” Cor moved his eyes over to the other two men, who stood there in silence, watching. He returned their quiet stare tiredly, trying to focus on a proper thought, but it became increasingly difficult to think. He had that name in his head, but he was not sure whose it was. With effort, he forced out the two syllables “Ti... tus...” before he had another small coughing fit. The man with the scars on his face stepped closer. Regis moved out of the way to give him space, and the large man leaned over him, carefully carding through his hair, those pale blue eyes never leaving his. Cor relaxed a little into the touch, unaware that he was slipping off into sleep... 

Cor had not woken up again after that. When the nurse came around for food, they had placed the tray onto the small bedside table – for later, should he wake up in the middle of the night. Ardyn had been a little unhappy about his brother recognizing the ‘big brute’ over him, but he had conceded; at least he remembered something. That was better than the alternative. The four men had left quietly, nobody admitting it, but feeling more at ease than in the past few weeks. 

Since Sunday had no visiting ours, the quartet returned on Monday noon. They had been busy, trying to salvage anything from the research labs they had found. Izunia had spent the day at the office again, but unlike the other days, he had remained relatively quiet. When Regis and the others left for their lunch break, he had refused to tag along – apparently, he was busy with something he did not care to share with anyone. They had stopped at a restaurant and gotten some take-away; perhaps Cor would appreciate some regular food. When they had arrived, however, the trio was speechless when they found the hitman chained to his bed, glaring daggers at everyone and anything in his room. One nurse hurried out so quickly, that she did not even acknowledge the three men, her face pale as death itself. “What happened?” Clarus asked, earning himself one of those killer glares. “Cor?” Walking into the room, the men put the food onto the table and hung up their jackets. Cor remained silent, feigning ignorance. “Hey! I'm talking to you!” Clarus said, a little annoyed at the other man’s childish behaviour. Cor just pulled at his restraints, snarling and Titus laughed amused. Walking over to the bed, he sat down and inspected the padded cuffs. “Don’t be a prat. What happened?” Snarling again, the hitman remained defiant. With a sigh, Titus shook his head and grabbed the man’s chin, forcing Cor to turn his head, but the man still refused to look at him. “Couldn’t remain docile for long, hm? What happened?” Now, the hitman was looking at him, a pout gracing his features, ruining the glare he was sending Titus’ way. “It would only do you good, if you did. I mean, we received the message loud and clear. You’re evidently into some kinky stuff. But you should be careful with that wound for now.” Regis giggled in the background, earning himself an elbow to the ribs, but it was evident that Clarus thought it was funny as well. The Captain did not even bother commenting on that. “No...” “Oh, he speaks. You hear that, Reggie?” Clarus said, a big smile on his face. “Let’s see if we can get more words out of him!” Unpacking the food, he handed one plastic box to Titus, indicating at Cor. “We even pay – information for food.” Curiously, Cor waited for the Captain to open the box and reveal some rice with chicken. Unconsciously, he inhaled the scent and his stomach growled appreciatingly. “Guess someone’s hungry. So, how about it? Do we have ourselves a deal? You can always wait for the hospital food if you think it’s better than this; we’re not forcing you to anything!” Regis and Clarus joined the two men on the bed, crowding Cor in on all sides. With burning cheeks, Cor eyed the food for another moment, before he relented. “They... want’d to... t... touch. Hate ’t. Hate h’spitl’s. F’ght.” Regis nodded. “I understand why. But I am sure, they only meant well, Cor.” Shaking his head violently, he replied, “No h’spitl’s! No!” When another coughing fit tried start up, he forcefully supressed it, taking deep breaths and swallowing a few times. Once he had calmed down, he eyed the food again and Titus huffed amused. He forked up some of the rice and chicken, waiting for Cor to open his mouth. “It’s not like we can open those cuffs.” he said, way too much amusement laced in his voice. With a growl bubbling in his throat, Cor opened his mouth and let himself be fed. He ignored Clarus’ cackling. 

Their lunch break had turned into some sort of ‘funny’ food game with Regis and Clarus interchangeably feeding their little brother rice and chicken slices. Titus had taken mercy on him and refused to play along, but he could not help the smile that crept onto his face. Once they were done, they spoke about all kinds of useless things, trying to get Cor to use those muscles in his throat again to improve his speech. First, the man had refused, but eventually relented, agreeing that it was necessary – asking where Ardyn was and that he wanted to see the man, confirming that he started to remember again. None of them mentioned the events that had landed the hitman in this bed in the first place. When the trio was ready to leave, Titus had stayed behind a moment longer, locking eyes, saying, “Behave!” and then had left as well, ignoring the confused stare. 

The rest of the week had been the same, mostly. The four men had tried to visit whenever work permitted it. Ardyn had decided to go after Gilgamesh, but without any success. As unsuccessful as his task had been, he had spent the later part of the week at Cor’s bedside, talking about nothing in particular. He did find the padded restraints hilarious though, making fun of the other man. By Friday, the nurses had removed the cuffs as the hitman had begrudgingly agreed to let them do their jobs – he just wanted Ardyn to stop making all those ridiculous jokes about it. 

The next couple of weeks got worse rather than better and nobody really had time for anything outside of work. They had not made any useful progress on Ulldor’s encryption, in fact, they had encountered a setback. None of them had noticed the active transfers from the accounts until it was too late. Additionally, there had been a break-in at ARL: someone had stolen Besithia’s body. The Board did not appreciate this screw-up and had demanded swift corrective action. Eventually, they had found another research lab, this time not cleaned out. The bodies of the dead victims were all piled up in a corner, leaving the Glaive with a lot of work – no sign of the stolen body though. Highwind had helped as much as possible and provided the facilities for the autopsies. They also were permitted to use the ARL facilities for any lab analyses. 

Three weeks later, on a Wednesday, the quartet was able to visit. When they arrived at Cor’s room, however, they found it empty. Surprised, it took Regis some diplomatic skills to pry out the information they needed from the busy nurses to find the man – he had been released and was permitted to walk around the premisses unsupervised. It took them half an hour before they found him outside in the small garden area, leaning against a tree, wearing nothing but the hospital-issued pants and shirt, ignoring the cold. When he heard footsteps, he turned around; looking like his usual self, all shaved, healthy, wearing a mask of indifference. “Dammit Cor, do you have some death wish? If that cut didn’t kill you, then this weather certainly will.” Ardyn shrugged off his coat and hung it over Cor’s shoulders, continuing to reprimand him – it was December and not getting warmer anytime soon. The other hitman just shrugged. “I needed to get out of there. It’s... too much! I hate it.” Letting the man embrace him, he held onto Ardyn’s arm, while the other leaned his forehead against his temple. “You stupid man, why did you have to do it? I could strangle you for what you’ve done.” he whispered. They had not spoken about what had happened at their safehouse; hearing Ardyn ask now made him visibly tense. He knew the others were also waiting for an answer. He sighed, “I had to know. The truth.” he said, voice low, his eyes focussed on some point on the ground, recalling something specific. “I don’t want to talk about it.” he concluded after a moment of silence, a deep scowl on his face. Then, he looked at Regis. “The legal counsellor paid me a visit today.” Oh... right, seems they forgot to mention that little detail to him. The look on Regis’ face must have said it all since Cor sighed resigned. “It was a mistake.” he said and let go of Ardyn, creating some distance between them both. “We didn’t have much of a choice. We needed to provide ID for the insurance and everything that comes along with the treatment.” Clarus explained calmly. Cor nodded. “Did you find... anything?” he asked a moment later. “If you’re talking about the arm, yes! We did find it and mind you, darling. That thing gave me nightmares, still does! I don’t even know how you cleaved that thing off him.” Another nod. “That’s not what you were asking about, though, was it?” Titus asked, arms crossed in front of his chest. When deep blue eyes locked onto pale blue ones, he continued, “There’s no trace of him anywhere. He’s been quiet lately.” With a displeased frown on his face, the hitman averted his eyes again. “A penny for your thoughts, darling.” A moment passed, before Cor spoke up. “I tried. But it doesn’t matter.” “What doesn’t matter?” Shaking his head, he started walking back inside, ignoring Regis’ question. “I am my own man now.” he muttered as he walked past the three agents, earning himself one assessing and two confused looks. 

Against the doctor’s advice, Cor had discharged himself later that day. Since he had been legally re-instated, Regis and Clarus had lost their rights of being his legal guardians and had to watch the other man sign the AMA papers – eight weeks had certainly been enough for him in this place, even if he had slept through half of them. The nurse had given him a funny look when she saw how scratchy his signature looked like, but he did not care – what did she expect of a man who never had to sign anything with that name before? When he asked Titus if he could stay at his place, the Captain had nodded, earning the ire of the other three men, but Cor had just shrugged, saying that he was the only one who did not give him shit for anything and effectively silenced them. He also made another valid point when stating that Ardyn was staying at Nyx Ulric’s place, so, he was not allowed to talk! Both hitmen had a short wordless discussion before Ardyn relented and agreed – it was not like they had an actual place to return to anyway, with their safehouse still being held under wraps for ‘further investigation’. With that, the issue was sorted. 

The initial idea was to drop Cor off at Titus' place and then return to headquarters, but the hitman had refused, insisting on tagging along. The ride back was quiet and the mood at the office was awkward – some agents had stared at the five men and whispered quietly when they saw Cor, but once Titus barked out some orders, they had dispersed again to continue whatever they had been doing before. In the small room that made up the Captain’s office, Cor had dropped himself wordlessly onto the small sofa, covered himself with Ardyn’s coat and then fallen asleep instantly. He never heard the quiet ‘click’ when Regis took a picture with his phone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy. :)


	28. We need medical personnel

When Cor woke up, he was not on the sofa any longer but in a bed. Yawning, he looked around and realized it was Titus’ bedroom, light was shining brightly through the windows – it must have been around noon. The other man was nowhere to be seen – probably at work. Sitting up, he threw his legs out of bed and noticed he was not wearing anything but boxers... that were evidently too large for him. His bandages were fresh as well – how had he not noticed any of this? The bottle of water on the nightstand caught his attention next. There were also the tablets he was meant to take if the pain was too much and a few syringes with heparin he needed to administer every six hours to avoid blood clotting. Getting up, Cor stumbled lazily over to the closed door and opened it. Listening carefully, he confirmed he was alone. The Captain must have really been at work then. Walking into the center of the living room, he noticed some sheets folded in military-fashion on top of the sofa. Cor frowned, had the man been sleeping on that small thing? On the table, he found his phone, wallet, keys, lock-picks and a note, or rather, a phone number. He sat down, picked up his phone and dialled the number. It rang four times before a rough voice answered. “Drautos.” Well... what was he supposed to say; he probably should have thought about that first. After a long moment, the Captain asked, “Cor?” “Yes.” “You good?” “Yes.” Another moment of silence. “You need anything?” “No.” Cor could hear the other man take a deep breath. “Why did you call, then?” Thinking the question through first, he answered honestly: “I don’t know. I just... dialled the number.” The other man chuckled. “This conversation is pointless.” “Very much so.” Another amused chuckle. “You should hang up.” “I should.” When he did not, Titus spoke up again: “How you feeling?” “Good, I think. How did I get here?” “You fell asleep in my office. Had to carry you back.” Cor hummed. “Oh.” “Yeah, ‘oh’. You’re quite heavy you know?” He snorted. “Or you have neglected your training.” He could hear Titus huff. “Pretty sure I can lift more than you.” “Is that a challenge?” “Perhaps.” There was some commotion on Titus’ side before the man spoke again, “I need to go. You be good. And behave!” “You keep saying that.” “Because you keep causing trouble. And this time, I expect you to be there when I get back!” The last part, Titus snarled almost threateningly. “Is that an order?” “I can make it one!” Cor hummed quietly, feeling a sense of déjà-vu. Without an answer he hung up. 

When the other man hung up on him, Drautos just growled, earning a raised eyebrow from Clarus, who had just opened the door to his office and stepped inside. “I haven’t even said anything and you’re already grouchy. What’s up?” “Nothing. What is it?” Clarus frowned. “Just another Board meeting from hell.” “If you need a break then you’ve come to the wrong place. I’m having a meeting with Elshett and the others in... five.” Clarus nodded. “The Ulldor case?” “The team has returned from the autopsies they attended on the bodies we’ve found. Elshett said the information they have is very disconcerting but she refused to share on the call. You might as well join in.” 

Five minutes later, Ulric’s team and their superiors were back in that all-too-familiar meeting room. Elshett looked very dishevelled, evidence of her having not slept too much the past couple of days. She had not even bothered getting out a mug with her coffee. Just grabbed the pot in the kitchen, drinking straight out of it. When everyone was ready and focussed their attention on her, Elshett started: “Gentlemen... let me re-cap what we know so far to complete the picture. After having decrypted the data, we were able to identify several research labs scattered across the country. Ulldor had taken Besithia’s research a step further. While he continued his work at ARL, Ulldor paid Aldercapt for additional ‘subjects’ – victims the man had kidnapped or picked off the street for little money. Claustra was the one to arrange any transfers and communication, supporting Ulldor with the lease of the buildings and keeping an eye out for any lawsuits that would come up against Aldercapt. She practically worked as a mediator of some sort. The drug seems to be a combination of three different compounds: a stimulant, a sedative and a metal. It improves muscle strength, decreases neural transmission and enhances overall tissue stimulation. The body can utilize more of the dormant strength, making the test subject appear stronger than humanly possible.” When Elshett saw the confused looks, she elaborated. “When you work out, you train with a certain weight for a certain time, right? And even then, when you’re done – after two to four hours – you will still be able to go for a run or do another superset of press-ups. This drug helps you to go from a 10-kilo weight straight to a 100-kilo weight without any problems.” Now, that made sense to everyone. “So, it’s like what... adrenalin, steroids?” Ulric asked frowning. “Yes, steroids are part of the stimulant. The sedative is composed of endorphins and then there is an additional gold chain added to the active compound, but nobody could tell me why. I barely understood the medical blabla myself!” Flicking through the papers, Elshett pulled out one particular page and read off it: “The test subject’s performance will be heightened but not impacted by any damage to its physiology. As long as the neural transmission is active, the subject will be able to continue to operate at 180% of its normal ability.” Silence. When the group continued to remain silent, Elshett sighed. “You break arm, person can still use arm. You break neck, person can still walk. You damage brain and spinal cord, person dead. Understand?” And understand they did. She could see it on the men’s faces. “So... you’re telling us we’re dealing with Captain America?” Ulric asked, still trying to wrap his head around what Elshett had just tried to explain to them. Thinking it over, the woman nodded. “You could say that, but it’s only temporary, so the user has to continue administering the drug. Which leads to another important criterion we have to pay attention to. Some of the bodies showed signs of very severe skin destruction. It seems that the drug is not compatible with everyone and if used too much, they also show... side effects – aka death.” Elshett took a deep breath before she continued, “Oh, and don’t forget about the stolen body. No traces of Besithia’s remains.” Looking at her bosses, she continued: “And we should invest into some actual medical personnel, sirs!” Regis nodded at that; confusion still written across his face. “Unfortunately, we don’t know what happened to the body, as I already mentioned, but we also don’t know who completed those money transfers. My educated guess: it’s the same person. Anything else doesn’t really make sense.” 

Another moment of silence followed, everyone trying to digest the information. “Any idea how to proceed from here?” Clarus queried, rubbing the back of his neck. The heavy silence in the room answered his question. “So, we have exhausted all our resources, then?” Again, silence. “Great.” "Why can’t we ask Red? I mean, our resident hitmen were obviously after these guys. Maybe they know something we don’t?” Ulric thought out loud, earning himself multiple raised eyebrows. “I mean... where do they get their information from? Someone must have hired them or something?” Drautos folded his arms in front of his chest. “That source will be difficult to explain. Regis?” His superior nodded. “You’re right. We can’t simply say that we obtained information from the hitmen who are currently on our ‘Most Wanted’ list.” “Perhaps an anonymous tip?” Khara suggested. “Desperate measures... right?” Clarus commented, propping his chin up on his balled fist. Finally, Kincaid stepped forward, holding up a small black piece of something between his thumb and index finger. “There is also another issue that will need your attention, gentlemen. We believe that your communication lines have been compromised and are currently being monitored by someone else.” A set of unhappy growls followed the man’s statement. “And how the fuck did that happen, now?” Clarus sighed exhausted. The silence in the room was getting irritating... 

It was almost midnight when he finally made it back to his apartment. They had taken hours to find the bugs hidden in the office, not sure if they had found all. Fortunately for them, their meeting room’s bug had already been deactivated, but it was only a little mercy in the big picture of utterly confusing shit they were dealing with. They were also out of luck when it came to the evidence they had obtained from the mansion which had served as the hitmen’s safehouse. Nothing indicated to any form of high-tech used at that place – how these guys operated without any technology was beyond everyone’s understanding and a question for later. 

Throwing his jacket onto a hook in the small entrance he walked straight into the living room, falling onto the sofa, not bothering with the light; the pale moon providing enough to get him to his destination. He closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose – finally some peace and quiet... until strong fingers wrapped around his throat. Before he could stop himself, Titus jolted upright, or at least tried, but was pulled back down immediately. “You dropped your guard.” Cor whispered into his ear, but did not ease up on his grip, voice sounding amused. “Didn't think you’re still awake.” came the raspy response. “I was.” Cor moved his hand up and pushed the back against Titus’ chin, forcing the other man to crane his neck. He had to arch off the sofa slightly to accommodate the new position, but now, he could see the other man’s eyes; the moonlight shining through the blinds giving them an eery but beautiful shine. A moment of silence passed between the two men before they shifted and their mouths connected. They bit each other’s lips playfully, their tongues touching every now and then until Titus grabbed Cor’s hair and pulled him further in to push his tongue into the wet cavern. Cor purred, tilted his head slightly for better access and pushed against the strong muscle with his own, fighting back eagerly. They kept at it for quite some time, their tongues moving back and forth, continuing their wild dance. When a loud rumbling noise broke through the silence, both men calmed down and separated slightly. “When did you eat last?” Cor asked, ghosting his lips over Titus’ nose, up the bridge to his forehead before locking eyes again. “Food? What’s that?” “Hm, that long then?” Letting go of the hitman’s hair, the Captain carded through it for a moment before dropping his hand onto his stomach when it rumbled again – still not breaking eye contact. The hand on his throat disappeared in a slicing motion similar to what a knife would do when cutting through the thick muscles and arteries. “Freshen up. I’ll prepare something.” With that, Cor got up and walked silently into the kitchen without bumping into any of the furniture – the man had obviously learned the layout of his apartment by heart. 

10 minutes later, a freshly showered Titus Drautos was leaning against the threshold of the kitchen, watching as Cor finished dishing up the scrambled eggs onto a slice of toast. Holding the plate in front of the other man, Cor cocked his brows. “You can cook?” Titus commented surprised, accepting the plate with a nod. “If you’re surprised about me cooking up something so simple, then your expectations are set very low!” The taller man shrugged and grabbed himself a fork from a drawer. “I burn water... I have no expectations.” The hitman huffed amused and leaned against the small counter, watching the other man eat. “It’s good. Thanks.” the Captain muttered, finishing in no time and putting the plate and fork into the sink. Cor pushed himself off the counter and walked past the other man. “Don’t sleep on the sofa again. It’s too small for you!” he said, and headed towards the bedroom. Distantly, he could hear the man mutter something along the lines of “bossy, much”. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who cares, there is actually evidence that the Chinese did do some research. It's quite interesting and fun to read into what countries in general have been investigating into during the wars. At the same time, it's indeed quite sad to see people only invest into research for the purpose of killing. :( Anyhow, do enjoy. :)


	29. It's PTO time, baby!

When his alarm went off, Titus automatically moved his hand over his phone’s screen, grumbling. Forcing his body to move, he sat up. He rubbed his palms across his face and clapped his cheeks firmly to properly wake up, all the while feeling the bed shift – Cor was getting up as well. When he heard the man hiss, he turned around, throwing him a questioning glance. The hitman was holding his abdomen, looking not too happy. His free hand moved to the knot which held the bandage in place and tried to fumble it open but failed. Wordlessly, Titus turned around and helped, swatting the other’s hand away. Frowning at the tightness of the fabric, he asked, “Why did you wrap it up so tightly?” He waited for the other’s response, continuing to unwrap the bandage completely. Then, he realized why the other man had not answered. The thin dark line where Cor had been sewn together was swollen red and blue around the seam. Sighing, he closed his eyes for a second. “And you keep asking me why I tell you to behave?” “I was bored.” “Then do something else aside from working out!” Looking at the other man, Titus saw that he had at least the decency to look somewhat guilty – good. “No training until the end of the week!” he said. “And that is. An. Order.” The man reached over to the nightstand and grabbed one of the syringes, uncapping it and stabbing the needle into the soft skin of Cor’s lower abdomen, injecting its contents quickly. The hitman hissed at the feeling but did not comment. Titus got up and left the bedroom, grumbling something about “children, all of you” before he disappeared in the bathroom. 

When Drautos arrived at headquarters, it was with a thundering gaze and the Glaives steered clear of him. Especially when they saw who accompanied him. The man had dragged Leonis along, explaining to him that they needed to talk to him and Izunia. Thus, here he was, wearing his black trousers and combat boots plus a too large black dress shirt that clearly belonged to the Captain. If the rumour-mill had not already started turning, then it would certainly now, but right now, Titus had zero nerves for that. The two men walked past the reception and up the stairs when they already heard someone – Nyx Ulric, who else – scream. “That’s the last warning you’re getting Red. Get back here, so I can skin you alive!” The young agent ran past them, looking like he had showered in orange juice. Drautos could see Leonis frown. “Not a word.” he pressed out and the other man nodded. 

Rather than walking towards his office, Drautos contained his anger and headed straight for their meeting room. There, Regis and Clarus were already chatting away about something non-work related. Their eyes lit up when they saw them. “Titus, Cor! Good to see you!” Clarus said, nodding into their direction, but only Cor returned the gesture. “Did Titus tell you why we asked you to come?” “He said you wanted to talk.” Throwing the Captain a quick glance, Regis shook his head. “Yes, that we do indeed. I would’ve expected him to tell you more, though.” “He might have, but he was angry. Still is.” At that, Regis’ ears perked up. “Oh, trouble in paradise?” Of course, Izunia had to enter the room at that moment and of course, he had to pick up on the last sentence. “Hah, I knew it. What did the big brute do now?” “Fuck off, Izunia.” Drautos barked out, grabbing the coffee pot and pouring some of the black liquid into a mug. Ignoring the other man completely, Izunia was next to Leonis, giving him an assessing look. “What did he do?” “Nothing.” Narrowing his eyes, the maroon-haired hitman asked again, “What did you do?” “I might have... trained. A little.” At that, all three men groaned in disbelief. “Seriously? Cor? Like... really?” Regis looked at him as if he had declared he would die in the next five minutes, and... if he was correct, he might, seeing that Izunia and Clarus were both glowering at him like there was no tomorrow. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but what the actual fuck? I can see why that brute over there is angry! If you want to die then just ask me and I happily put that bullet right between your eyes!” “You’re being dramatic, Ardyn. I just wanted to test my limit.” “No limit testing bullshit, Cor. Titus, you have permission to tie this little shit up to keep him from hurting himself again.” Clarus grumbled and crossed his arms in front of his chest, just to make a point. “I vote with ‘aye’.” Regis said, nodding. “Aye.” Izunia commented as well. Leonis rolled his eyes – great, now he had four people being a royal pain in his ass than just one; and he had thought staying with the Captain would keep this kind of stuff from happening. Maybe it was a mistake to have cut his ties with Gilgamesh; he certainly missed the quiet already! 

Intending to not continue down this road any further, Leonis purposefully changed the subject to the matter at hand. “Why did you ask for us, Regis?” he asked, his voice as neutral as always. It took the older man a moment to organize his wits in order to provide an answer. Indicating at the table, he sat down, the others following suit. “We have reached a dead-end in the Ulldor case. Besithia’s body has been stolen from the morgue. Someone has emptied all the bank accounts and cleaned up all external research facilities and we don’t know who. Our office was also bugged. You both obviously knew way before we did what’s going on here. We were hoping you would be able to help us, push us into the right direction so to speak.” Both hitmen exchanged a quick glance that spoke volumes before Izunia shrugged and leaned back, stretching. “It’s your assignment, darling. It’s your decision. I was only called over to get you back.” Leonis remained quiet for another long minute, staring a metaphorical hole into the desk. Then, finally, “Four years ago, we heard rumours about some scientist doing research into the uses of metals and its capabilities of enhancing human abilities beyond what is currently known, it has something to do with the own body’s magnetic field. The Chinese had once researched into this during World War II; the casualties being incredibly high. We figured we should look into it and we did. We traced back the research to Bekes, Hungary. People disappeared there, especially tourists of young age, athletic – turned out they got picked off the streets and were tested on. Gilgamesh sent me in to neutralize anyone involved and I did. Blew up the whole building too just to be sure. When we noticed that kidnappings picked up in the US – mainly adolescents and adults in their twenties – we investigated further, the MO was too similar to ignore. Gilgamesh went to warn Aldercapt to lay off his activities, but the man refused and went to Claustra to get into victim protection. She organized the transfers to Miami and the rest you know, seeing that you got involved after I shot the man at the conference.” “Why did you shoot my father anyway?” Regis interrupted quickly. Cor tilted his head a little, thinking. “I was told to.” he replied matter-of-factly, earning himself raised eyebrows. “Yes, I get that, but why? What did he do that warranted killing him?” Keeping his eyes on Regis, he answered in the only way he knew: “Gilgamesh told me to kill him and I did. I don’t know why he wanted him dead. I could hazard a guess now, though.” Regis inhaled deeply, there was no point in asking any further. Picking up where he left off, the hitman continued: “Gilgamesh was the one who actually looked into the information while I was taking out the targets. He only told me what I needed to know, when I needed to know – it's always been like that. He also maintained surveillance until the trail traced back to Ulldor. And from there, it was easy to figure out the rest. Besithia, the soldiers at ARL. I can’t say the events at ARL played out exactly as planned, but it worked out. Your Army-friend destroyed the data, so we didn’t have to do it. The soldiers are all dead and so is Besithia.” Deepening his trademark frown, Leonis tilted his head, thinking about something before continuing, “The only thing that is still unaccounted for is his residence in Kona. I remember Gilgamesh talking about it, but I can’t recall properly. We never got around to cleaning the place out... for other reasons.” “Kona? As in Kailua?” the maroon-haired hitman asked with a raised eyebrow, conveniently ignoring the hidden reference and Leonis nodded sharply. “Yes.” “What’s that, this Kunna Kajluha?” Clarus queried quietly. “Kailua-Kona, a city in Hawaii. Touristy place, all summer, sun and love. Lovely, if you like beaches and oceans.” Izunia elaborated with a big smile on his lips. “How about it, brother-dearest, think we should get a tan?” the man continued, earning another eyeroll from the other hitman. “Focus!” “I think that’s not a bad idea, actually.” All heads snapped over to Regis. “What? I think Ardyn made a fair point. None of us have had a proper vacation in months. And we don’t have jurisdiction in Hawaii yet. So, the next best thing is to send some guys over there incognito.” Sometimes, Regis had some really good ideas! “Titus, how about it? I can sign off a few of your Glaives and then you guys can enjoy some bonding time over ice-cream and get that tan. Oh, and buy some souvenirs and postcards and take pictures!” And sometimes Regis was just full of shit. Grumbling, he answered, “It’s not like we have any other option.” After a moment, he continued, “Sign off Ulric. That should suffice.” “Is three going to be enough, Titus?” Clarus asked, contemplating. “This is going to be a clandestine operation, Clarus. Too large groups will draw attention. And with that parrot over there we’re already in for it.” “Hey, who do you call a parrot, you brute?” “I’m coming as well.” Leonis said, earning a stern “no” from the three agents. Izunia just sniggered amused, knowing full well not to argue. “Cor, you stay here. You can help prepare the Glaive New Year’s Party at the office. How about it?” The hitman’s body went rigid and his face lost all colour. “No!” he barked out, making everyone laugh in amusement – what had he gotten himself into with these people? What was wrong with them? 

The remainder of the week had been uneventful, mostly. Regis had signed off Ulric’s and Drautos’ annual leave; then, he had involved the rest of their group into the plan the five men had worked out. Ulric had been quite happy about hearing that they got to travel, but his mood darkened at once when he heard that Izunia would join them. To the question why he had such an issue with the maroon-haired hitman, he had just replied with a hysterical “his hands are always on my arse” and with that, the topic was also sorted. Meanwhile, Drautos and Leonis had argued again about the latter joining their ‘mission’, but the Captain had refused and camped out on the sofa again – knowing full well that if the other man came too close, he would not be able to refuse him. In fact, he had denied himself any closeness and the other man seemed to also be not too interested. He wagered that it had different reasons to his own, though. At the end of the week, Leonis had told him that he was moving back into their old safehouse. Regis had approved the mansion to be released and be made available to the public again – sometimes that man could work miracles. Izunia had bought it off at a special auction at once, impressed by how many crazy people wanted to live in a ‘murder house’ as they seemed to have dubbed it. Leonis had left without any further ado, but his gaze had lingered for a little too long on the other man. Drautos had not said anything, but he could not stop himself from ruffling the hitman's hair one last time before he closed the door. It was definitely better... for his own sanity. 

Early Monday morning, the two agents found themselves on a plain towards Kona International, a 12-hour flight. Izunia had decided to fly over on his own, stating that he “needed his space” and that they would meet up at the hotel. Which they did. When both men arrived, they found one Ardyn Izunia sitting in a large armchair in the lounge, sipping away at something bright pink, talking to someone they could not see. When he spotted the two agents, Izunia waved excitedly at them, beckoning them over. Unlike his usual coat, the hitman was wearing a white suit with a maroon-coloured tie, matching his hair nicely. When they came closer, he and his companion stood. The other man was wearing a cold-grey three-piece suit, the jacket hanging over the side of his armchair. When he turned around, Drautos just wanted to punch him – naturally... how could it have been any different? "If you die, don’t complain!” he snarled at Leonis who just shrugged. Izunia’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he watched the Captain drop his Rucksack and walk off to the reception. Barking the other agent’s name, Ulric looked sheepishly at them before he followed. 

After providing ID, they returned to the two hitmen – apparently, Izunia had changed their booking arrangements as well, as the lady at the reception had so kindly informed them about. Unlike them, both agents were wearing simple jeans and shirts – looking more like tourists at least. Izunia was still way too amused and kept sipping at whatever that liquid was meant to be. “You got the keys?” Izunia nodded and finally finished his drink. “If you’re so kind to follow us.” he said, that annoying smile never leaving his lips. Both agents followed behind, getting a nice view on the hitmen’s rear. and Drautos had to admit – to his chagrin – that Leonis did look very good in that suit. He needed to be careful around that man, now, that he had gotten a taste, it was difficult to keep away. Still in thought on how to salvage this itinerary change, he missed the man stopping and continued walking until Ulric elbowed him into the ribs. When he looked up, he found the younger agent look at him with a raised eyebrow. “I know you’re angry, Captain, but you’ll have to suck it up and stay with Leonis.” Blinking once, then again, Drautos turned around and looked at the hitman, who just returned his gaze with his trademark frown. Wordlessly, he turned on his heel and walked back and past the other man who held the door to their room open. It was evident that Leonis had already set up his side of the bed, his duffel bag stowed away next to the bedside table – of fucking course it had to be a king-size bed; what did he do for Karma to punish him like this? He walked over to the right side and threw his rucksack onto it, before sitting down next to it. “You’re angry.” “I am.” “I don’t understand, why? I am able to operate normally.” The Captain shook his head and dropped it, supporting it with his elbows on his thighs, the balls of his hands pressing into his eye sockets. “You refuse to listen to people who actually care about your well-being. It’s not about your performance, it’s about you ignoring advice!” “Do you think I’d be here if I felt like I wasn’t ready? I know what I can do, and the wound has been healing. It’s been 10 weeks by now. If you... care... then trust me to make the right decision! I don’t need being watched over.” Well, that was a fair argument right there... still! Leonis had moved quietly to his side and when Drautos turned his head, his gaze connected automatically with the other’s. The man was close and that suit definitely did it for him. He would just have to reach out. 

Fate, however, had other plans if the loud knocking on their door was any indication of it. “Oi, darling. How about you let the big brute sulk and we go enjoy the sun. Someone as pale as you might actually benefit from it!” they could hear Izunia shout, followed by another loud knock. Leonis got up again, lightly grazing the Captain’s thigh in the process, and walked over to the door, opening it. Izunia sauntered right through it, across the room towards the small balcony. “Oh, you have such a nice view onto the beach. We have to enjoy it at least once and I refuse any discussions about that.” The hitman turned around, tapping his foot, regarding Drautos first, then his brother. “Hm, and I hoped I interrupted something. What a shame. Next time.” he muttered and walked back to the door. “Lobby in five, darling!” And with that, he was gone. Leonis could hear the Captain sigh. “Let’s just get this over with.” he grumbled and stood. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, do enjoy. :)


	30. It's going to be a pleasure working with you

The four men spent the rest of the evening surveying the area. While walking the perimeter, they had raised a few eyebrows – especially Ulric and Izunia. The young agent had tried to strangle the hitman more than once when he could not keep his hands off the other’s backside, arguing that those jeans were definitely more than a little suggestive. Leonis had skilfully ignored their antics in favour of updating the Captain on the location of Besithia’s residence. Since he did not remember the whole address, he wanted to do some additional research first, just to make sure they did not break into the wrong house. Neither man expected that to be difficult though, seeing that the island they were on was relatively small anyway and Besithia was not known to be stingy. And neither man addressed the lingering gazes or accidental touches that just seemed to happen every once in a while. 

For dinner, the quartet picked a table on the far side, distancing themselves from the remaining guests. “This place lacks security. It will be easy to get out and back in unnoticed.” Ardyn said, taking a sip of the red wine he had ordered. They had decided to switch to first names, seeing that they were here for ‘leisure’. And people had already started giving them funny looks. "It’s a hotel, Red. What do you expect?” Nyx commented unimpressed. “Oh, you should visit Eastern Europe and the Arabian Peninsula, some hotels there have some really impressive security.” “Really?” Ardyn nodded, popping a carrot into his mouth. “This food’s good.” Everyone agreed with that. “So, Captain! Tell me something...” “No.” came the calm answer and Nyx snorted into his beer. Albeit the man’s response, Ardyn pressed on, “Why were you wearing a general’s uniform at ARL, hm?” When he did not receive a response, the hitman rolled his eyes dramatically. “Another one who doesn’t know what chit-chat means. Great. How do you deal with this at work?” When Titus had finished his food, he looked at the other man. “I find it hard to believe that you didn’t look it up yourself already.” “Correctly analysed. But... unfortunately, your files are completely sealed. Not a single bit of information. Thus, I have to actually ask.” Seeing the mischief in Nyx’s eyes, Titus knew exactly what would come next – those two had definitely found each other... unfortunately for him. “Oh, I’ve got some intel, Red. They called him Glauca!” “Truly? How interesting.” Even Cor’s eyebrow rose slightly. Evidently being outnumbered and not in the mood to talk about that particular topic, Titus got up and left, blatantly ignoring the disappointed yell from the maroon-haired hitman. 

He did not feel like going to their room, instead, Titus opted for taking a walk along the beach; it would certainly take his mind off. The beach was vacated, most people busy with having dinner by now or partying in-town. He appreciated the quiet. He sat himself down onto the sand, a distant lamp providing some light so that he could see enough. Rubbing the back of his neck, the Captain watched the waves; contemplating. His past was pushing its way back into his life and he was not all too pleased with that fact. He did not need people to know what he had done. All those covert operations he had led; they should just stay buried and forgotten. His fingers found a small stone in the sand and grabbed it, throwing it into the water. He exhaled through his nose and lay back, his hands folded behind his head. 

He did not know how long he had been laying there, but he had almost dozed off when a warm hand pressed lightly onto his chest. His own hand shot forward and wrapped itself around the wrist, holding tight. “You... are doing this on purpose.” he muttered quietly. “I am.” Cor replied. “Come back to the room?” Titus let go of the other man’s wrist and moved his hand back to where it had been before. “Stayin’.” He could hear Cor shift next to him; likely to make himself more comfortable. A few moments of silence passed by before he spoke again. “You’re not going to ask me about Glauca?” “No. If you want to talk, I will listen. But I won’t ask. It’s not my place to do so.” Titus opened his eyes and turned his head to look at the hitman. He was sitting in seiza again, staring at the ocean. “But I can tell you from experience that Ardyn won’t stop until he knows everything.” “Is that your way of telling me to bite the bullet?” “No, just giving you fair warning. I am expecting you to ignore him. He will keep digging, though.” Titus hummed and both men fell into comfortable silence once more. They stayed like that for several minutes before a young couple ran past them, giggling loudly. When they took notice of the two men, they whispered quietly and then continued running. Cor looked after them for a moment, frowning. “People are weird.” At that, the Captain chuckled amused. “Says the one who kills for a living!” Pushing himself up on his arms, Titus looked at the other man more closely: the grey suit appeared white now, and the blue tie was shining brightly, just like the man’s eyes. When said eyes moved across the waters, the sands, and over him just to lock with his own, all he could do was swallow hard – he got it so bad, it was not even funny anymore. When Cor just cocked a brow, he had had enough. Growling, he reached for the man’s tie and pulled the hitman over into a kiss. It was tame; just a quick bite to the other man’s upper lip and when he pulled back, he glowered at him. “You fuckin’ tease!” He pulled at the tie again and Cor followed, opening his mouth willingly to let the taller man enter. When he felt the wet tongue slip in, he met it with his own. He could taste the Captain along the faint hint of the spices of the beef he had been eating earlier and a purr bubbled up in his throat. The hitman tried to turn a little more but had to stop when he felt something pull a little uncomfortably at his skin. He pressed his palm against Titus’ chest and forced him to break the kiss. “Bad position...” he breathed, waiting for the man to gather his wits and connect the dots. It did take him a second longer than expected, but then, he moved. Getting onto his knees, the Captain moved in front of him and leaned in, capturing Cor’s mouth again. Slowly, he pushed forward, forcing the hitman to lean back until he had to give up his seating position and ended up on his ass, his legs spread to accommodate the large body that was now between them. Trying to not have his abdominal muscles do all the work, Cor supported himself on his arms to stay somewhat upright. When Titus broke the kiss again and moved his lips along his jaw to his ear, the other purred again. He could feel the Captain bite his earlobe lightly before huffing into his ear, “I want to taste you.” Well... if he had not been aware of the throbbing between his legs, Cor certainly was feeling it now. “Be good and stay quiet. You don’t want anyone to hear, do you?” Titus continued and his hand pressed onto the hitman’s confined cock, tracing the outline with his fingers. Without much conscious thought, Cor opened his legs more – man, was he easy to get or what? A bite to his Adam’s apple pulled his attention back into focus. Hissing, he arched himself into the other man and pressed out an “I’ll behave” and if the Captain did not react to that. 

The belt was the first to go, then the button, then the zipper and the hand was in his pants grabbing hold of his cock and squeezed. Losing himself in the sensation of scraping teeth and a rough hand, Cor did not pay attention to what the other man was saying. Only when both disappeared did he open his eyes – not sure when he had closed them. Titus chuckled amused at the dazed look the other gave him and waited until he had collected himself again. “Lift your hips a little.” he repeated and Cor obliged. With a swift motion, Titus pulled his pants down to his thighs and he frowned. The Captain must have noticed his confusion as he leaned in, brushed his lips along his jawline and rumbled, “No fucking tonight.” The Captain ghosted his lips teasingly over the other’s. “This’ll feel good too, though.” he continued and nibbled lightly at the hitman's bottom lip before leaning back. Giving his surroundings one last check, Titus tapped his finger against his lips and then dove down. His right arm wrapped itself around Cor’s thigh and pressed his hips into the sandy ground while the fingers of his left hand wrapped themselves tightly around the base of his cock. And then, there was that mouth; its lips pressing against the cockhead, opening up and enveloping part of his length. “Fuck...” Balling his hand into a fist, the hitman brought it up and bit into the rough flesh. He could feel the wet heat and the light pressure of Titus’ tongue moving along the glans, into the slit, over the frenulum and down the shaft; all the while bobbing his head up and down, every time going a little deeper, taking in a little more – was that man trying to devour him or something? Titus’ hand moved down to his balls, tugging and squeezing enticingly and Cor could taste blood on his tongue. When he felt a finger move over his perineum and press onto it, he let himself fall backward into the sand. Unsure of what to do with his free hand, he moved it along the vest, pulling at it until the lower buttons opened. He could feel the Captain swallow and then pull off, his fingers wrapping back around his length again, stroking him roughly. Licking over the slit, Titus huffed with heated breath, “You’re doing good.” and he felt the man buck slightly. The Captain ghosted his lips over the glans and down the underside of Cor’s cock, took a turn and kissed the side. He then moved further over his own fingers to nuzzle the neatly short-trimmed patch of pubic hair before licking over the sensitive skin around the cock and then back up, swallowing him whole in one go. Titus deep-throated Cor and moved his fingers back down to his sack. He could feel the other man buck up and put some more force into his hold. Eventually, Cor’s hand found its way into his hair and grabbed tightly, pulling desperately and he hummed, knowing full well the other would feel it. And feel it, he did; the smaller man arched his upper body off the ground and moaned lowly into his fist. The hand in his hair pushed the Captain further down and the man hummed around the hard length in his mouth, eliciting another desperate growl. Feeling the hitman's body slowly tense up, Titus gave Cor’s balls one last good squeeze, swallowed around the cockhead buried deep in his throat and Cor cummed. When the other man’s body went limp, he let off and sat up again. Cor’s chest was heaving erratically, breath ragged, his right arm covering his eyes, knuckles showing the imprints of his teeth and bleeding slightly. The other had dropped into the sand, his clothes looked ruffled and tousled, his vest partly opened – yes, that was a good look, but it could be better. 

The Captain leaned himself over the other’s body and deftly worked his belt and fly open. He grunted when he worked his painfully throbbing cock free and set a rough pace. Cor shifted underneath him and moved his arm out of the way; instantly, deep blue met pale blue. Dipping down, the Captain caught the hitman’s lips and they kissed fervently. He broke away with a low growl, focussing on the feel of his hand on his cock when, suddenly, a second hand wrapped itself around his own. “Let me.” Cor whispered and a moment later, Titus moved his hand away, placing it next to the other’s head. At once, the hitman closed his fingers around the other’s girth and started pumping, slower than Titus had been doing. When the man growled heatedly, Cor tightened his grip and pressed his fingernails into the sensitive skin, eliciting another low rumble. He moved his hand up and twisted his wrist while squeezing the tip, his thumb rubbing over the frenulum. Titus grunted quietly; his hooded eyes barely keeping eye contact with Cor. He tightened his grip more, knowing it must have been painful by now, but the Captain did not utter any complaint. So, he started stroking again, making sure to keep rubbing that sensitive spot on the Captain’s cock every single time his hand came up. When he felt Titus push his hips forward, Cor stilled. “Don’t you... dare... stop now.” the man pressed out, trying to gain some friction by moving his hips again, but Cor simply let go. “Fuck, Cor!” “Don’t. Move.” the hitman breathed against Titus’ lips and when the man nodded once, he resumed where he had left off. With every stroke his grip got tighter, rubbing his thumb over the slit and dragging his nail downwards. Cor kept going until Titus spilled his seed all over his vest and a little longer for good measure. The other pulled him into a deep kiss and Cor returned it with just as much ferocity, clicking their teeth and biting at anything that was in reach. Steadily, their kiss slowed and turned into a tame press of lips against lips. When they separated, Titus leaned his forehead against the other’s, keeping his eyes closed for a moment longer before he forced himself off the hitman, sitting back up onto his haunches. If the man had looked good before, he was perfect now. “Sorry about your suit.” he quipped with a small smirk on his face. “’s fine. I’ve got another.” came the calm reply and Cor pushed himself onto his arms. “Please tell me you’ve also brought normal clothes!?” Titus breathed, rubbing the back of his head. “What’s wrong with suits?” Mouth evidently faster than brain, the Captain could see how Cor connected the dots while he finished his sentence and he swore there was a wicked gleam in the other man’s eyes. 

Without providing an answer, Titus held his hand out and waited for the other to grab it before pulling them both up. “Get back to the room now?” Cor asked, his voice not revealing any emotion, even though his eyes betrayed his apparent confusion about the other not letting go of his hand. Instead, Titus brought their hands up and placed a soft kiss onto Cor’s bloodied bite mark. “Next time you can be as loud as you want.” he said and he could feel the other man tense – and was that a slight blush? “And yes, let’s get back. But with our pants on, preferably.” Cor’s gaze shifted downwards – both men still had their flaccid cocks hanging about and his vest was nicely covered in cum. “Fuck...” he muttered and a strange thought crossed his mind. “Wait... did you just... mark me?” he asked, earning himself an amused chuckle. “That wasn’t my intention.” the Captain answered, tucking himself back in. “But, I can see why you’re asking. All I wanted was to ruin that suit.” Stepping a little closer, he growled, “However, if that’s what you want, you just have to say so.” The thought made a shiver run down his spine, but Cor ignored it in favour of fixing his appearance. He pulled his pants up and his vest off, folding it wordlessly. Taking out the keys from the small pocket, he pushed it against Titus’ chest. “Room. Now. There’s work to be done.” 

On their way back, they passed a group of elderly women who just smiled happily and waved at them, only with a little distance between them could they hear the wolf-whistling and he could see Cor throw him a deadly glare. Titus just shrugged; he did not regret a thing! Back in their room, Cor had immediately occupied the bathroom. 10 minutes later, he walked back out and went straight for his duffel bag, muttering a quiet “I’m done” and the other moved to tend to his own needs. When Titus was done, he had expected the other man to be dressed and in bed or something, but certainly not still being wrapped in that towel sitting in the cosy armchair, legs propped up on the table; a small netbook in his lap and a wireless earpiece decorating his ear. “Need any help?” Titus asked, even though he already knew the answer to that. “No.” Cor replied, his eyes not leaving the screen in front of him. Titus made himself comfortable on the bed and closed his eyes – if the other man needed anything, he would say so. Such a request never came though, and eventually, Titus fell asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have some bad muscle pain, lol ... ... but here we go, another chapter. Enjoy!


	31. Hollywood-stunts my arse!

When the alarm of his phone tore him from his slumber, Titus automatically moved to sit up. Still a little sleepy, he looked around in the large room and then to his left. Cor was laying on his front, his hands hidden underneath the pillow his head was on. And there was that towel – did this man sleep naked? “You’re staring.” the hitman said without opening his eyes, his voice clear; he must have been awake for some time already. “Just observing.” “And what do you see?” “You only seem to be doing extremes. It’s either or; there’s no in-between.” Titus rumbled calmy, voice still sounding sleepy. “It’s called being efficient.” Deep blue eyes cracked open, looked up at the other man and he continued: “I don’t see the necessity of doing something that will not get me anywhere. You do it yourself as well.” Titus hummed. “I do, just never met anyone to execute it so effectively.” Cor shifted and sat up, his hand going to the large scar on his abdomen. “Not effective enough, I would say.” “You survived. That’s what matters.” “He’s still out there. He’ll come back.” “Then you’ll be ready.” “But I failed, I’m a failure now.” When Cor looked at him, his frown had eased out, making him look a little lost and Titus ruffled his hair. “You’re just down, not out. Get up and move on.” The hitman nodded quietly. “And put some pants on!” Titus continued, clearing his throat. Cor huffed at that, shifted closer to the other man and placed a hand on the Captain’s thigh. “Why? Is it a problem?” Swatting his hand away, Titus growled, “Tease. Did that parrot put you up to that?” The hitman tilted his head slightly, evidently thinking through his answer. “He may have... given some pointers.” The Captain nodded, furrowing his brows. “That only begs for trouble.” he said. “But, can’t say it doesn’t work!” he admitted and grabbed hold of the other’s goatee, pulling at it. 

With a loud ‘bang’ the door to their room burst open and hit the wall. Marching in, Ardyn recited loudly, “From the night’s last star to the morning’s first light, always remember to keep the target in sight!” He aimed his gun at Titus und pulled the trigger, the hammer clicking and a small flag shot out of the barrel – it was a plastic gun. Grinning, he holstered the gun between his belt and pants. “Good morning, hope you slept well.” Moving on, the maroon-haired hitman let himself fall into the armchair and crossed his legs. With some effort, Cor pulled Titus back, the Captain was evidently out for blood right now, so he needed to do the next best thing: damage control; blood in their room would lead to unpleasant questions after all. “Ardyn, seriously?” he snarled, but the other just shrugged. “What? Just wanted to see how he reacts. He’s a pass!” The last three words, he spoke with a lowered voice, evidently trying to imitate someone. Titus tried to get up again, but Cor put him into a choke-hold. “Don’t. Just ignore him.” he rasped into the man’s ear, his voice accompanied by something like amusement. The Captain forced himself to calm down, the muscles in his jaw were working rapidly – a murderous glare on his features. “I will rip this parrot a new one sooner or later.” he snarled threateningly, but the maroon-haired hitman just kept smiling at them. When Nyx came rushing into their room, he snapped an embarrassed, “Sorry Captain. He tied me to the bed.” and marched over, grabbing the mop of hair, pulling at it and, subsequently, Ardyn out of the armchair. “Ow, ow, ow... hey. Stop. Ow.” And with that, Nyx dragged the hitman out of their room, hollering, “See you at breakfast.” As soon as the door shut behind them, the arm around his throat disappeared and Cor fell backwards, pulling Titus with him so he lay against him. Titus dipped his head back onto the firm chest. “I will kill him, slowly and painfully – rip his skin off and pour salt over him if I have to and then, roast him over open fire for the wolves to eat.” he growled irritated. Cor’s chest started to move erratically – the man was trying to suppress his laughter and succeeded; somewhat. However, the choked-out and snorty noises he made sounded so strange that Titus propped himself up to look at the other man. With a light smile on his lips, the hitman locked their gazes and the Captain almost forgot to be angry. But only almost. “That wasn’t funny.” he deadpanned, but the other man nodded. “It was... to me.” Taking a deep breath and finally managing to regain his composure, Cor elaborated: “When we were younger, we would always come up with some way to catch the other off guard, see who was better at stealth. It taught us to always keep our guard up.” And some dots connected in the Captain’s head. “That night at my apartment and yesterday. That was the same!” “Yes. It’s actually something I enjoyed. Gilgamesh tolerated our ‘game’ because he saw that our skills improved with it.” Titus hummed and leaned in, capturing the other’s mouth to bite the other’s thin lips. “If he puts that gun to my face again, he better has a bullet with my name on it.” he growled and removed himself completely. 

Breakfast had been a little awkward, to say the least. Mainly because Ardyn had still that infuriating smile on his face and Titus looked the exact opposite. The other guests steered clear of them. Nyx had tried to brighten the mood but given up eventually when it became evident that nothing he did would work. Cor had simply ignored the others and focussed on his breakfast – he even treated himself to a small chocolate mousse dessert, earning himself an amused snort from Ardyn. Once they were done, they relocated outside to an isolated area and Cor went over the intel he had gathered the night before. He had folded out a map of the island and indicated where they needed to go and how they should proceed for ‘optimal efficiency’. He had paid attention to the surroundings and showed them CCTV surveillance of the streets close to the villa on his netbook, explaining vantage points and access routes. Nyx had been quite impressed and asked how and when he had obtained all the data and planned everything out so neatly. Cor had just shrugged and answered truthfully with “last night” – the young agent had just gaped like a fish. 

Around noon, they had made their way over to the villa. Since car-hire required ID, they had walked, following the busy touristy routes, blending in; well... Titus and Nyx certainly did. The taller man had donned a pair of desert-camo tactical pants and a dark-green tank top whereas the other was running around in dark-purple shorts and a yellow shirt. The two hitmen were once again all business: Ardyn wore a beige three-piece with a bright red tie and Cor wore a similar suit in navy-blue but without the jacket, the sleeves of his dress shirt turned up. Titus had decided that those two hitmen just liked to wear unnecessary layers of clothes – even if it suited them – but if they died of heatstroke, he would just hide their bodies in one of those large trash containers. At least Nyx and Ardyn were not at each other’s throat today, so that he could count as a win. Cor was as aloof as always. 

When they arrived at the villa, they quietly let themselves in by climbing over the wall. Ardyn was quick to disable the security feeds as well as the house’s built-in alarm system. Then, they split into two groups; one hitman with one agent. Ardyn and Titus took the front door while Cor and Nyx entered through the balcony on the first floor. Once they were inside, Cor surveyed the room quickly, indicating for Nyx to check the desk, but when they both came up empty-handed, they moved on. They went room for room, knowing full well that the other two were doing the same. Quietly, Nyx ventured into the next room, but rolled his eyes and closed the door again without going in. He mouthed “bathroom” and Cor nodded. When they were done, they moved on to the second floor. Here, they were a little luckier and found the study immediately. Nyx walked over and started looking for a laptop at once. When he found it, he waved Cor over. Of course, the laptop was locked, but nothing that would stop them. The hitman pulled out his small netbook from a back-pocket under his vest and plugged it up. Nyx just threw him a questioning glance. After a moment, Cor’s frown deepened. “This will take a while.” he said and hit ‘enter’. Then, he focussed his attention on a large filing cabinet. He picked the lock and started going through the files. “Hey, I think this might be something...” Nyx said and Cor turned slightly. He dropped the folder back onto the shelf and walked over. “These are all medical reports and look here, these structures...” Nyx turned the page and found more. “My school times are long behind me, but these are definitely chemical structures of something.” “Lipotropin. Dopamin.” Cor supplied and the agent sent another weird look into his direction. “Seriously? Is there anything you don’t know?” The hitman simply tipped his finger onto the other page. “Oh.” Nyx muttered, reading the paragraph and feeling like an idiot. “Keep these notes.” he said and walked back to the desk to check on his netbook. “We’re in.” 

While the two men were busy upstairs, Ardyn and Titus had checked the ground floor and cellar, but found nothing. They were about to head upstairs when the hitman noticed an oddly positioned bookshelf. Naturally, he had let the Captain do the heavy lifting. Said bookshelf revealed a large hidden room with active monitors showing different locations; one of them being inside the Glaive’s headquarters – it was Titus’ office. “Guess you didn’t find all the bugs, hm.” Ardyn whistled amused and stepped closer to take a look. “This one is at ARL. And this is the morgue.” “These two show the entry hall and the cellar here.” Titus added, his gaze already moving over to a diary laying on the table, its leather cover worn down. Flicking through the pages, he said, “Someone took notes. Passwords it seems. And some chemical formulae. Different writing styles. There’s also some...” “Oh-oh.” Titus turned around, looking at the hitman. “What?” A pop-up window had opened on the middle screen, running a countdown. “Can you stop it?” Ardyn sat down and started typing away, pulling up command after command but nothing worked. After a moment, he switched tactics and started pulling up external CCTV feeds. “What are you doing?” Titus pressed out. “I can’t stop that countdown, but I can find out where the signal comes from.” “Then you better do it fast.” “Patience is a virtue!” the hitman chimed. After a moment, he mumbled, “That’s not right...” “What?” “According to the signal, he’s right outside.” The Captain grabbed the diary and yanked Ardyn out of the chair, dragging him behind all the way back until the other man finally found his balance back. They rushed up the stairs, trying to find their companions. Running out of time, the maroon-haired hitman whistled high-pitched and Cor responded a second later with the same sound. Rushing up the second flight of stairs, they found both men in the large study, busy with the laptop and some files. “It’s blowin’ in two!” Ardyn said and the other hitman unplugged everything in a calmly fashion. “Target’s outside. Let’s get that fucker.” Lightning fast, they went back down a floor and left through the balcony, just barely making it out in time to avoid the first explosion. When a second explosion sent parts of the wall flying outwards, all four men got caught in it, some of the bricks hitting painfully. Ardyn landed face-first when a brick hit the hollow of his knee and Nyx tried to help him up when another slice of the wall grazed by his temple. When Cor turned around, the other hitman indicated him to go on. Without hesitation, he turned and made for the wall, climbing up and over it in one fluid motion. He turned around the corner and ran onto the main street, looking for his target. Slowing down his steps, he blended into the crowd that had started to gather. 

When he saw something shift in his periphery, he turned his head. There was only one person who would walk away from a burning house. Cor pushed through the bystanders, trying to keep up without being noticed, but eventually, the figure did turn around and saw him. And started running. Staying at his target’s heels, Cor sprinted after him. He ran down the street, turned the corner and ran between the cars to get over the junction, ignoring their honking. He slid over the hood of one car when he could not evade and rolled onto the pavement. He saw his target run down an alleyway and he followed, but once he reached it, there was no sign of anyone. Looking around, he noticed a door that had not fallen into its lock and went for it – it was a bar of some sort. Inside, Cor saw his target talk to one of the larger men at the counter, pointing a finger at him, shouting in a high-pitched voice, “Make loa!” Whatever his target had said did not give him any hope; judging by the faces of the people inside the bar, it was nothing too nice. When one of the guys broke his snooker cue in two, he knew he was in for it. Getting into stance, he snarled threateningly. 

“Fuck, where did he go?” Nyx looked around but was unable to find any sign of the hitman. They had just made it over the wall when the firefighters arrived at the front entrance. “That way.” Ardyn said, pointing towards the crowd. “You sure?” “If I wanted to blow up a place and watch, I would try to hide in the most obvious spot.” he said, limping along. Thus, the trio made their way through the crowd and then, down a random street, following Ardyn’s lead. When they saw two cars crashed into another, they crossed the road. The younger agent heard one of the men arguing about a ‘crazy guy running in front of his car’ and they knew they were right. They walked down one alley and then the next, but only ending up in a dead-end and Ardyn huffed. “If I was my idiot-brother... where would I go?” he whispered more to himself than anything else, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Nyx climbed up onto the wall to see what was behind it, but came up with nothing. “He definitely didn’t go this way. Unless he fancied a bath in trash.” “Maybe the door?” Titus tried the handle but it did not budge. “Unless it was open before, I’d say no.” Ardyn huffed again. “I don’t like this, guys!” he said unhappily. “Unless we find some trace of him, we’ll have to wait for Cor to get back.” the Captain said, silently agreeing with the hitman, though. 

When the door burst open and a body fell into Titus’ arms, all he could do was raise an eyebrow – he was not impressed. He dropped the unconscious body carelessly onto the ground and entered the room. There, he saw Cor sliding around a dancing pole to kick some guy’s face into the next best wall. “Hey.” he barked in a voice that simply demanded attention and everyone stopped at the new faces and stared at them. “What the fuck did you do now?” Ardyn breathed out irritated and punched some guy who tried to come after him with a bottle, earning an annoyed “nothing” from the other man. And, as if on cue, the fight continued and the three men found themselves fighting off some very drunk and very angry people. Ardyn disarmed another man quickly and pushed him into a toppled-over table. Nyx was behind him, watching his six, kicking another guy into the knee. Titus was faced with a man even taller than him by almost a whole head, but the guy was so drunk, it was easy to have him kiss the floor. Cor jumped off the stage and kneed some other guy into his head, landing next to the Captain. Taking position on his six, he reset his stance and engaged again. Weaving under a punch, he kneed the poor man into the groin and flipped him onto his back, following up with a heel to his gut. He saw Titus slam another man onto a table that cracked under the sheer force of the impact. Suddenly, someone locked him into his arms and Cor stomped onto the guy’s foot. When he let go, the hitman stepped forward, twisted and back-kicked the guy into another one that came flying out of Ardyn’s direction. The hitman just waved amused and turned back to pulling a guy off Nyx who seemed to have gotten attached to too many men all at once. He felt some movement behind him, and Cor rolled his eyes – as if sneaking up would actually work. He spun and high-kicked for his attacker’s face just to be blocked by a strong arm that wrapped itself quickly around his leg and held it up. “Really?” Titus had that ‘I am not impressed’ look on his face, but Cor just shrugged innocently. Another man just ran into one of the pillars holding the ceiling up, catching their attention. He slid down at the obstacle just when another body followed; apparently having been punched by Nyx, who was shaking his hand. One of the guys got up and Titus loosened his grip on Cor’s leg, “Jump ’n crash?” he said, and the hitman used the leverage to flip over and smash his knee into the other man before he was even fully standing. Nyx rushed past him and swept at another guy, stayed in crouch and Ardyn hopped over him, landing his knees in another’s gut. 

Five minutes later, the four men were the only one’s standing. With a few women weeping and crying, they exited the premisses quickly and put some distance between them. They stopped along a promenade and Nyx bought some water for them. Sitting down between the palm trees, they finally relaxed a little. Despite the brawl, they looked relatively decent, no large visible injuries, just a few scratches and some dirt on them, the bricks had hurt far more. After emptying half of the bottle, Ardyn spoke up: “Okay, so, what happened and how did you manage to piss off a whole bar?” “Wasn’t me. Was the other guy.” Cor snarled lowly, taking another small sip to clean his mouth off blood. “Did you see his face? Any specifics?” “White clothes, blue cap, hooded face, small in stature, slim. He said something to the big guy... mah-kej lo-ha?! And they started the fight!” Shifting uncomfortably, Cor sat up a little straighter, feeling his abdomen burn lightly. He pulled his netbook out and checked for any damage. It seemed to have survived the fight, so, he put it back into its holder underneath his vest before leaning back against the tree. “I’m hungry.” Ardyn muttered and received a nod from the others. “Food sounds good after this shitshow.” The four men pulled themselves back onto their feet and continued on, searching for a place that would not mind their dishevelled appearance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought a little action would not hurt anyone... enjoy. :)


	32. Pain doesn't have to be a bad thing

Once they had found a bar that had let them in, they had seated themselves into the darkest corner and ordered food and drinks. After the food was served, they started reading into the papers while Ardyn had taken Cor’s netbook, busily typing away on it. “My head hurts from all this shit, this guy was a pervert through and through, only talking about how excitable the body’s cells are...” Nyx growled displeased, pulling at his braids, and Titus chuckled. “Excitable cells are neurons, endocrine cells as well as muscle cells. Not just your dick, Ulric.” The younger agent grimaced at that. “The body has its own magnetic field. Mostly, it’s a very weak current, but if it is damaged, your body will not function correctly. There are different medical approaches for diseased people to treat them with electromagnets to stimulate their cells and help them fight off the sickness.” Ardyn elaborated, he had stopped looking at the netbook and started eating his somewhat cold food. Cor continued, “This is why the drug’s active agent includes a metal. It’s the conductor. Mix it together with hypertrophic compounds and you surely gain maximum effects. This is why those soldiers could keep on fighting. They literally didn’t feel the pain until they were practically dead. How did you kill that soldier at ARL anyway?” Nyx groaned painfully – the memory alone was enough to bring those pains back. “You mean, after you left us with that crazy dude? Well, we had to put 12 rounds into him and then, the Captain had to put his knife through the dude’s head.” “That reminds me, you owe me a knife.” At that, Cor looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “It broke.” The hitman nodded once. “Okay, so, we’ve sorted out the drug. But we’re no smarter on who is still out there, continuing this Dr. Frankenstein research.” “We know he’s on this island, we have all these accounts and passwords written down. But these symbols and numbers make no sense – steno perhaps!” Titus replied grumbling and both, Nyx and Cor, leaned over to look at it. “Huh, really looks as crazy as this whole case actually is.” the younger agent muttered unimpressed. 

When the sun had set, they quietly sneaked into the hotel and walked swiftly to their rooms. Over the last couple of yards, Nyx and Ardyn had started bickering on who would get to shower first, completely ignoring the other two men, who simply shrugged it off and took the folded-up papers off them as to not have them ruin any valuable information. The two were so busy arguing, they did not even bother listening to Titus asking them on what time to meet up later, they simply slammed the door shut right into of his face. “How did you survive with this parrot so far?” he asked over his shoulder and received a quiet huff. “Gilgamesh threw him out.” “Hm, I can see why.” “I’m surprised you’re not used to this by now, seeing that Nyx Ulric is no better.” “Frankly, I am still figuring that one out. And I’ve got a punching bag at the office.” Stemming the door to their room open, Titus let Cor walk past him. “Despite you both having undergone the same training, you two are exact opposites.” The hitman pulled his netbook out and placed it alongside the papers and the diary onto the small table. “That’s because he refused to become what Gilgamesh wanted him to be. Now, I understand why – back then, I thought he was a fool. Turns out, I was the fool all along!” When he heard Titus shift somewhere behind him, he turned around and saw the other walk into the room while pulling his tank top over his head and off. “You did what you had to do. Now, you have the opportunity to be who you want to be.” the man said calmly and threw the top onto the second armchair – tan lines already visible on his skin.

“Sounds like you talk from experience.” Cor said, turning back around to start unbuttoning his vest and dress shirt; focussing on something more substantial. He could hear the other man sigh deeply, he had understood what he was referring to. “I grew up among Mercs... people used to send our platoon on very... special missions. Orders were always the same: kill those who did not fit into the political schemes of whoever was currently in charge. Every now and then we got to rescue some hostages. But basically, I killed people I had worked for or with before and some more who tried to unearth any dirty secrets of Americas or any other country’s high-ranked political assholes. So yeah, I know a thing or two about doing things you know are not-so-right.” Well... there it was, out in the open, against his better judgement and Titus waited for the backlash. Turning fully around, Cor looked at the Captain, but the other just stared at an imaginary point at the wall. “You betrayed the flags you served under.” “I did.” the other pressed out between gritted teeth. “You betrayed your loyalties.” “More often than not.” The hitman walked over to his duffel bag and rummaged around until he found one of the heparin syringes. “You regret it?” “Some of it.” Uncapping the syringe, he pressed the needle into his lower abdomen. “Will you do it again?” Cor asked, and threw the empty syringe into the small trash bin. He stopped right in front of Titus, waiting for the man’s answer, not giving him any chance to look anywhere but him, feeling the heat radiate off him – this man was always so warm. After a moment of silence, he heard him answer, “No.” “Good.” With that, Cor pushed the Captain backwards onto the bed, following behind quickly to straddle him. He leaned forward and snarled, “Betray me and I’ll kill you.” Then, he closed the gap and kissed the somewhat surprised man under him – that was not the reaction he had expected. When the other did not respond, Cor bit Titus’ bottom lip roughly until he gasped quietly. Seizing the opportunity, he let his tongue slip in-between the rows of teeth and pressed against the wet muscle until it finally responded. 

Cor allowed his hands to roam over Titus’ chest; over the ridges that were his abs, along his sides, up to the pectorals, through the fine hairs. From there, he moved his hands up over the clavicles and the sides of his neck until he cupped the man’s jaw on both sides. When he felt the Captain’s hands on his ass, he broke the kiss. “Touch me.” he demanded and leaned back up, pulling his tie open, so, that it hung loosely around his neck. Titus did not need to be told twice as he sat up and moved his hands over the other’s back, capturing a nipple with his teeth. A low sigh escaped Cor’s lips and he grabbed the other’s hair, pulling at it. Giving the small bud one last lick, Titus let go and was momentarily pulled into another kiss. One of his hands found the hitman’s long scar and when his thumb caressed it gently, he could feel the other shudder and move away. When he did not stop, Cor wrapped his fingers around the Captain’s hand and moved it up to his chest. “Not there.” he said, voice stern, but the strong beat of the hitman’s heart was betraying him; he was nervous. Titus kissed Cor’s sternum, once... twice... thrice, then rumbled a quiet “please” against the warm skin. Struggling to understand, the hitman put some space between them, his frown showing signs of confusion. “I don’t understand what you’re asking.” Titus rumbled in his throat. “I’m asking for permission, idiot. This scar is nothing to be ashamed of. I’ll only ask once.” He pulled Cor closer again and continued kissing and licking the man’s chest, tasting him while waiting for the final decision; his other hand never leaving the hitman’s back, trailing along the hard lines of muscle there. After what seemed like a small eternity, Cor nodded and lifted himself further up onto his knees. “Proceed.” And Titus’ hands slid over his sides, gripping tight onto his hips while he brushed his mouth over the long scar; kissing and licking over the sensitive skin. “Fuck...” Holding onto the taller man’s shoulders, Cor muttered a string of curses, digging his nails into the thick flesh of the other’s trapezius. The hitman could feel one hand move lower to the front of his trousers, sliding over his erection and then between his legs, pressing a finger between his ass cheeks – he understood the silent question. Nuzzling the top of Titus’ scalp, inhaling the man’s scent deeply, he breathed “yes” and a moment later, the other stopped his ministrations, muttering, “Yes, what?” Sitting down onto the other’s lap, Cor rolled his hips into the Captain’s own hard-on. “Want you... to fuck me.” he breathed against Titus’ lips and sealed them shut. 

Titus hid his face in the crook of Cor’s neck, biting, sucking and licking at a spot until it was red; only then did he let up, grabbed the lapels of the hitman’s dress shirt and pulled it together with the vest off. Satisfied, he licked at the newly-available skin; it tasted salty and very much like Cor. And that scent – the man smelled so good. “Titus?” “I’m thinking.” That earned him a snarl. “About what?” “A good position to fuck you in.” the Captain snarled back, enjoying to see the other man’s cheeks turn red when he looked at him. He could drink him in like water and... wait. Drink? Water? Now, there was an idea; simple but nice. “Titus.” Cor cupped the man’s confined cock and squeezed; and the Captain grunted. “Shower. Now.” the taller man commanded and lifted the hitman off himself as if he weighted nothing. 

With military precision, both men got naked and into the shower cubicle in less than a minute. Titus turned the faucet and the lukewarm water made them both groan in disdain – it felt like ice on their heated skin. He boxed Cor in and started pumping their cocks roughly while the hitman was leaning against him, clawing at his back, groaning into his ear. When Cor snarled his name angrily, Titus grabbed his thighs and pulled him up, strong legs closing around his waist automatically. “Hold on.” he said and moved his left hand between the hitman’s ass cheeks, one finger tracing the tight ring of muscles. Before he could push inside, Cor breathed a heated “no” against the Captain’s lips. And the other man frowned. “Thought you wanted me to fuck you? Can’t do that without prep.” “I don’t want it. Not now. I can take it.” he replied, pupils blown wide when he locked gazes with the tall Captain – and fuck if that was not something. “I can take you!” he repeated, voice low but clear; determined. With a primal sound rumbling in his throat, Titus pressed the man further into the wall, biting at those thin lips. “It’ll hurt. A lot.” “My decision, my pain!” Cor snarled back stubbornly and the other relented, the offer too nice to decline, besides, his brain was already overruled by the throbbing ache of his cock. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” And with that, he aligned himself, one hand steady on his cock and then, he started pushing in. It was not exactly easy, considering that the hitman was as tense as he could possibly be, but he managed. With the tip inside, both men groaned at the sensation; for Titus it was unpleasantly tight and for Cor it was a burning that ripped him open. It took them both painfully long to adjust before the Captain was able to push further in. It took them even longer before he was fully sheathed inside, all the while muttering about how good Cor was – all those sweet nothings helping the hitman relax more and more around him. “Feel good?” Titus rumbled heatedly and rolled his hips once, earning himself a needy sob as an answer. “Ready?” “Yes... yes.” With that, he set a slow pace, his thrusts short and shallow. He made sure to brush over the hitman’s special spot inside him, rendering his cock hard again after it had gone flaccid due to the pain. Each slow thrust was fuel to the fire. Eventually, Cor started moving against him and his thrusts increased in both, pace and force. The hitman’s pained grunts and moans slowly ebbed away and became pleasured howls. From there, it did not take Titus all too long to make the other man come undone; the force he put behind each snap of his hips was relentlessly brushing Cor’s prostate and the man reached his climax in a ridiculously short time, spilling himself all over his chest. Titus did not take much longer when everything clamped up around him like a vice, milking him dry with each further violent roll of his hips. 

Not moving, both men tried to get their breathing back under control. The water was now soothing. “Fuck, this was...” “Good.” Cor finished and Titus nodded, pulling out slowly and helping the other to find his footing again. While looking down, he noticed the red drops on the white tiles – blood; and from the looks of it, quite a bit. His gaze fell onto his flaccid cock and his assumption was confirmed; they had evidently been too busy not noticing that little detail. “Dammit... turn around.” Titus barked and the hitman did as he was told, frowning. A second later, he could feel his ass cheeks being pulled apart, giving the Captain a clear view on his abused hole – his face was heating up and there was nothing he could do about that, he felt embarrassed. A gentle finger brushed over the muscle and he winced; with the arousal ebbing off, the pain was taking precedence now. Titus grumbled angrily but let go, turning Cor around again, locking gazes. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you. You asked for this.” “I did.” the hitman replied, defiance evident in his voice, despite the blush he sported. “Good. ‘cause this’ll burn.” Titus said and reached for the shower gel. 

The two men spent another 10 minutes in the shower, cleaning up. Cor soldiered on bravely, not admitting to have underestimated the pain that was definitely a notch too much, but he refused to regret any of it. Titus just chuckled every now and then, when he saw the smaller man wince slightly, trying to ignore the painful flares in his backside by sheer force of will. When they were done, Cor had defiantly limped back to bed and laid onto his front, closing his eyes – it was kind of endearing to see the man behave like that. Titus had grabbed the diary and made himself comfortable on his side of the bed, looking into that unreadable word-salad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy merry Christmas guys. :) Enjoy
> 
> Also, trying to use some more spacing, to me it looks alright but do let me know. cheers!


	33. Not everything can go as planned

Turns out it was indeed steno that was used to write the text with. It had taken Titus two hours and a dozen of torn-out pages he could scribble on, to decipher the specific form used and then translate everything into actual English; for once he was glad to have listened to Regis’ recommendation to attend profiling classes so he could ‘expand his horizons’. Once done, he had thrown the diary onto the nightstand and grabbed some fresh clothes out of his rucksack – he needed to clear his mind off that massive headache which had developed while translating. He had left the room quietly as to not wake the other man and made for Nyx’s and Ardyn’s room, but when he knocked and nobody responded, he had left on his own. 

It was late afternoon but it was still too hot outside. Titus had opted for a short walk along the promenade. Miraculously, he managed to run into the two men he had actually been looking for initially. Both were sitting in a café, eating away on ice cream... in one bowl? Nyx had waved and beckoned him over. He had joined them for a little while and then left again. When his feet had led him past a pharmacy, he had stopped, turned and entered the store, just to continue his walk five minutes later. Once in a while he would stop and look around – if anyone had asked, he would have denied that he was taking in the colourful flora. At nineteen-thirty-three-hundred hours he was back in their hotel room. Cor had donned a pair of what looked like karate gi bottoms and was seated in the armchair, reading through the diary. When Titus walked over and dropped a small paper bag into his lap, he frowned. “For the pain.” the man muttered and went to freshen up.

Leaving the bathroom again, the Captain found Cor staring at him with an undecipherable look. Before he could ask, the hitman held up a small yellow hibiscus flower – oh, right... that was where he had put that stupid thing. Shrugging, Titus cleared his throat. “There was this little girl who gave them away. I’d actually forgotten I had put it there.” Nodding slowly, Cor placed the flower carefully onto the table, but kept his gaze fixed on the taller man for a little longer before moving it back down to the diary. When Titus had seated himself into the other armchair, the hitman muttered a quiet “thank you” – what it was actually for, he did not say. Thus, the Captain shrugged it off, conveniently ignoring the funny feeling in his gut. As soon as Cor had finished reading, they had talked things over and drafted the next steps they should take while being here. They did, however, not make too much progress as their approaches were very different and they needed to set some ground rules – such as no blowing up buildings or torturing people for information; after all, they needed to abide the law and the Captain wanted to avoid a potential shitstorm – because that paperwork would definitely end up on his desk!

Then, someone knocked on their door. “Is it safe to assume you’re decent?” they could hear Ardyn chime and Titus had to force down the urge to snap back. A second later, the door clicked open and the hitman sauntered into their room – again, without invitation, someone needed to take this man’s lock-picks away. “What do you want?” “Nothing in particular. Oh... have you managed to fix the crazy?” Snatching the diary from Cor, the maroon-haired hitman scanned the page quickly. His eyebrows raising to hair hairline. “Oh my... if that isn’t interesting. Are we going to check it out? Can we blow it up?” Well... if there was any doubt about the man loving his job, the wicked gleam in his eyes now eradicated it all. And from the looks of it, Cor seemed not all too against it, to say the least – of course not. “We will check it out, but no. Blowing. It. Up!” Titus growled, not willing to repeat the discussion he just had with the other hitman. “Party-pooper.” “What do you want, Ardyn?” Cor repeated calmly and took the diary back. “To eat. I am hungry! Let’s have dinner.” At that, both men looked at the clock than hung at the wall in their room – was it that late already? “Guess we should get going.” the Captain muttered. “Fantastic, then, hurry up.” the other hitman said, flicking his gaze quickly over the wilted flower on the table, before he turned and headed for the door. Before he was out, Ardyn stopped and turned around again, a Cheshire cat’s grin decorating his features. “And just FYI: you might wanna tone down on the noise levels, dear brother. Not everyone wants to hear about you getting a. Good. Ploughing.” With incredible speed, Cor had grabbed the ballpoint pen from between Titus’ fingers and thrown it against the wall where it bounced off and hit the door, which had just closed. The Captain just watched him silently as he inhaled deeply and plopped back into the armchair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Cor threw Titus a sideway glance but did not comment on the small smile the other was trying to hide. 

During dinner, they caught up on the translations; the notes were actually instructions on relocating the drug lab to New Orleans within the next week, including latitude and longitude coordinates. And some more detailed information on the formula of the drug – it appeared to be a more advanced version of what Besithia had been working on. Since their involvement was evidently known, they agreed to action on it tonight. Their plan included to drive out to the old port with a stolen car – as per Ardyn’s fantastic idea – and then to engage and neutralize any opposing forces. Since they were only armed with Ardyn’s plastic gun, they would have to heavily rely on their surroundings. Unfortunately, throughout their dinner, Nyx started feeling a little off, showing tell-tale signs of heatstroke, so, they forced a gallon of water down the man’s throat just to keep him on his legs. Despite being down by one man, they intended to stick to their plan; there was not much else they could do and they refused to let this opportunity slip by. Nyx had remained adamant about accompanying the others and eventually, they had given in; the younger agent became their designated driver. 

Forty-five minutes later, the four men were back in their rooms and readying themselves for what was to come. Titus kept a watchful eye on Cor and was honestly surprised to see the other man walk around as if nothing happened; even the man’s limp was gone. Either he overestimated his skills severely or the other had an incredible pain threshold! When they were done, they picked up the other two and left stealthily over the wall. Ardyn was quick to find an old Volvo in some random dark alleyway which he unlocked with deft fingers and they left. 

It took them an hour before they reached the old port. Once they did, Nyx remained at the car whereas the other three left for the warehouse. Cor had split off the group and taken a different route via the rooftops, arguing he felt more comfortable that way and would be able to maintain better oversight. Ardyn and Titus had remained on the ground and were fast to walk into a guard, but the Captain just wordlessly knocked him into a door and out. When they reached the large building, Cor released a high-pitched whistle that made Ardyn move for cover, dragging Titus behind him. They waited for a moment before someone wearing military gear walked the perimeter. The person did not carry a fire gun, but considering what the drug could do, they did not expect one. “Alright, big guy, time to get the party started.” the hitman said and got up, walking over. “Oh hello, darling.” Ardyn chimed loudly, taking his suit jacket of and wringing it like a wet cloth. When the man turned, the hitman snapped the end into his face, it smacked loudly against his forehead and the guy stumbled backwards. When he found his balance again, Ardyn kicked him in the groin and slammed his face with too much force into the concrete. However, he did not react fast enough to another high-pitched whistle from above – when he turned around, another guy would have stomped him into the dirt if it had not been for the Captain to pull the guy’s hands into an arm-lock and slam him face-first into a metal wall. When they heard something crack, both men made a disgusted face. “I guess, that means those two were clean.” “That makes no sense...” Titus commented unfazed, keeping the unconscious bodies in sight. “I know. I would have expected them to be more... you know...” They pulled the bodies into a container and then continued their way to the large hangar doors.

Ardyn climbed onto Titus’ shoulders to look inside. “Lookie, lookie at that. Hm, we have one, two, three... four guards and some tables with body bags on it.” “Four? That can’t be right.” Jumping off the other man’s shoulders, Ardyn landed quietly and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “No, this stinks.” the hitman huffed, contemplating. There was another whistled sound from Cor, but he did nothing. Eventually he did reply with a lower-pitched sound which ended on a high note. A tune that somewhat sounded like a ‘chirp’ was the response. “What does he say?” “It stinks.” Titus hummed. “Perhaps they haven’t realized that the effects wore off?” “Maybe. Well, let’s get going and find out. How bad can it possibly be?” 

Well... things could have certainly gone better. Ardyn and Titus took out three of the guards before they engaged with the last one, who indeed, turned out to be powered up. The guy wiped the floor with the two men easily because neither were used to fighting together and they got into each other’s way more often than not. Frankly, it was ridiculous, but that was why they both ended up on the floor, panting like some untrained couch-potato after a 5-minute run. When a heavy boot landed in his stomach, Titus slid a couple of feet over the concrete, tasting bile and blood in his mouth. Ardyn managed to break one of the distillation columns over the guy’s head but he remained unfazed by it, even though part of the scalp had been cut off. Before the maroon-haired hitman could evade, the guy’s fist decked him nicely against his jaw. The Captain got up and rugby-tackled the man in front of him. In his periphery, he could see Ardyn wobble, grab a tray of syringes and slam it all into the guy’s face, but it did not do much damage it seemed as the man just grabbed them both and slammed their heads together, so, they saw stars.

“Fuck dammit! A little help would be really appreciated!” the maroon-haired hitman muttered a little dazed. “I hope he’s got a really good reason for not showing, otherwise I’ll rip him a new one.” Both men got up and wobbled a little before resetting their stance. “Thought you’d already done that.” Perhaps it was the hits he had taken, but Titus thought that comment was funny and snorted. “First this guy, then him!” he grunted and they got ready for another round of getting beaten up. The guy started walking towards them, but froze mid-step. “Oha?” Ardyn chimed hopefully. “What now?” “That can’t be good.” the Captain muttered. Just like at ARL, the body stilled, and then started spasming and moving erratically into all directions. Both men stepped away and that was when it happened: the body started to grow blisters and pustules, a dirty sick green colour; they opened once large enough until the whole body was covered with them and the man started screaming until his head became just one giant pustule on its own and exploded. The parts went flying everywhere and some of the blood covered both men who were unable to duck away in time. After a moment of silence, they both turned back to the remains, curiously staring at it. “Okay... what just happened?” “If I knew...” Ardyn whispered. “At least he’s dead.” “Thank fucking hell!” Titus exhaled and slumped down in exhaustion. The hitman mirrored his action at once, heavily panting. “I’ll need a vacation after this!” “Yeah...” 

Everything had looked alright, Ardyn and Titus had dispatched three guards easily, but when it turned out that number four was a special case, he moved from his position, intending to help. He jumped over the roof and landed on all fours. He went down the first flight of stairs, but was intercepted by a guard – unsure where he had come from so suddenly. He evaded the first few punches but was unable to block the leg that came up and kicked him into his chest. He was winded at once, stumbling into a desk and sliding over it, just to fall off on the other side. Steading himself on said desk, he pulled himself up, just to have his arm grabbed painfully and being pulled forward again, back over the desk and into a metal cupboard. Pressing a leg into it, he pushed backwards until he had enough room to twist and aim for the man’s elbow. The joint plopped loudly and part of the humerus tore through skin and uniform. The man did not even care about it, just maintained his hold on Cor’s arm, tearing off the sleeve of his dress shirt. The guard pulled his free arm back and launched it into the hitman’s gut. Cor hissed painfully and barely noticed how he was lifted up and thrown across the room. With watery eyes, he tried to ignore the burning pain that radiated off his scar into every last fibre of his being. Writhing painfully, he got up onto shaky feet, taking a deep breath. He tried to focus, but the pain was starting to cloud his mind. He ducked under a punch and kicked hard against the guard’s thigh that it snapped. Unfazed, the man bitch slapped him across the face and his neck cracked unpleasantly. There was a metal bar and Cor reached for it, turned and shoved it right through the guy’s liver, but in vain. The man just grabbed his throat and lifted him by a couple of inches up, balled a fist once more and landed it in his gut. The guard kept going until all Cor could feel was the red-hot pain. And then… there was only white noise. 

When they heard some commotion on the upper levels of the warehouse, they tensed up. There were some more noises and a loud ‘bang’. A second later, two bodies crashed through the overseer’s office window; one made itself as small as possible holding onto the larger one which crashed into the hard concrete right in front of them. The smaller body rolled off and stood in one fluid motion. Blue eyes locked back onto their target and Cor stepped over the spasming body, lifting his right, making a fist and then, kept punching the head until it was nothing more than a bloody pulp. Even then, he continued punching, until Ardyn wobbled over on unsteady feet. “You can stop now. He’s dead.” Unfortunately, he made the mistake to place his hand onto the other hitman’s shoulder, and Cor decked him, snarling. Like a caged tiger, he rushed forward and lashed out again, but Ardyn evaded by a hair’s breadth. “Woah, stop it, idiot. It’s me.” “Don’t. Touch. Me.” Cor snarled again. Titus pulled the maroon-haired hitman out of the other’s reach before raising his hand in front of him. “We won’t. Nobody will touch you.” The hitman was so agitated, his pupils were narrowed into small orbs; the deep blue of his irises stretched so thin it appeared icy – it reminded him much at that night at ARL. Cor bared his teeth when he snarled a third time. “Cor?” No response. “Oh, come on, now, really...” Ardyn whistled melodically and the other man jerked up at that. When he did it again, Cor blinked... and then blinked again, his posture starting to relax. “Cor?” Ardyn tried again, stepping forward again, not realizing his mistake. “That...” the other started, squaring his shoulders again. “... is not my name.” he pressed out between gritted teeth and attacked the other hitman, pinning him against the wall, ready to end Ardyn’s life there and then. 

Whatever was going on, Titus had literally zero nerves for this shit. He closed the gap and pulled Cor into a choke-hold. The man struggled and tried to get out, but the Captain just increased the pressure on his trachea mercilessly. When Cor’s movements finally ceased, he let go of him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy. :)


	34. Of dogs and men

In the end, they did burn stuff. Ardyn had argued that they could not have all of this be left with government forces. As much as Titus wanted to run this by the book, he knew the man was right. Since they had plenty of chemicals available, it was easy to put together a nice little mix of their own, pile up all the bodies, devices and what-not and set it aflame. One of said bodies was even Besithia’s. Thus, they had solved at least one mystery. Ethically however, it may have been questionable to have all those poor bastards in the body bags burn along with the rest, but better be safe than sorry. They did take a vial of the drug with them, though. They could not be too sure... 

When they got back to the car, they found a slightly dazed Nyx Ulric sitting by the front tyre, two unconscious guards laying on their fronts. When he saw the others approach, he scrambled to his feet, surprised to find Cor being piggy-bagged by the Captain. Neither man told him what had happened, though. On their way back, they all flinched when they heard the warehouse blow up. Ardyn had coyly muttered something about “too much chlorine”, but frankly, nobody cared at that point anymore. They just wanted to get back – it took them a little longer, they had to stop a few times, because Nyx needed to pull over to not vomit inside the car. They parked the Volvo on the same spot they had stolen it from and then, made their way back towards the hotel. It took Titus two attempts to lift himself over the wall, with Cor draped unconsciously over his back, but eventually he managed and they all were back safe and sound in their rooms – Karma seemed to have been favourable towards them, seeing that they had not crossed any major groups of people on their way back. Heaving himself over the balcony, Titus trod over to the bed and fell onto it, face-first. He rolled over to one side and the body on his back slid off. Then, he rolled back onto his front and closed his eyes. For the next half an hour, he remained still. 

Finally, when he was able to move again, his limbs felt heavy and his elbow plopped painfully. Glancing at the clock, he felt like going back to bed at once – it was barely past oh-three-hundred hours in the morning. Grunting, Titus got off and started undoing Cor’s combat boots. Next came his tattered clothes until the man was only wearing his boxers. One glance at the other’s abdomen told him enough to go and rummage around for a heparin syringe in the hitman’s duffel bag and use it. The scar looked an angry violet and blue, but nevertheless, it was not bleeding or torn. There was also a huge swollen bruise on the man’s shin; he must have hit something hard, and there were red marks of a hand on his biceps and something that looked like an imprint of a shoe sole on his chest. The rest were just scratches and bruises of no further consequence. Next, Titus stripped and took stock of his own injuries. They were not that much better. Aside from the obvious shiner he was sporting, he also had a red imprint on his stomach from the kick he had to endure. He also felt a thick bump on his head where Ardyn’s and his head had collided with each other. There was no doubt that the maroon-haired hitman had a similar one. He did not bother showering, he just slouched over to the bed and fell into it, draping the sheets over Cor and himself. Within mere seconds, he was out cold. 

When he opened his eyes, he saw the warm yellow of the ceiling in their hotel room. He tried to sit up, barely supressing a painful groan when he tenses his abdominal muscles. Giving up a second later, he just rolled onto his right and came face to face with a sleeping but very beaten-up Titus Drautos; the shiner on his right eye looked all deep red and blue, but was not too badly swollen, the side of his nose was black, though. Closing his eyes, Cor tried to recall the events from last night, frowning when he did not remember how he they had gotten back – he would have to ask the other man once he was awake. Taking a moment to listen inside, he felt a little detached... off. It was that familiar feeling of being void of emotion, a clear mind focussed on just one single idea; the feeling that always left him emptier than before and yet needing more. Without another thought, he inched closer to the Captain until he was close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him, but not close enough to touch. Without further ado, he closed his eyes again and continued sleeping. 

The second time he woke up, it was to an empty bed and the sound of a running shower. He reached for Titus’ smartphone and checked the time; it was fifteen-hundred-twenty-seven hours – they had evidently slept through most of the day. Cor sat up slowly, grunting, the pain not as bad as it had been earlier, but still incredibly unpleasant. He had enough of being beating up – it happened too much as of late, that was not acceptable. He could hear the shower stop and after a moment, Titus emerged from the bathroom; donning a fresh set of boxers, towelling off his hair. His step faltered minutely when he noticed Cor looking at him. “How you feeling?” The Captain grabbed a bottle of water off the table and handed it to him – had the man cleaned the room and stocked up on water all by himself; when? “I feel... not good.” At that, the other man snorted out a quiet laugh. “You look the part.” “You're one to talk.” the hitman deadpanned, raising an eyebrow and looking pointedly at the bruise on the men’s shoulder. The bruises on Titus’ body were large and covered many shades of a colour-palette: from blue, over violet, to red and light brown. When the Captain let himself fall back onto the bed, Cor bounced slightly, spilling some of the water over himself. “Oops.” They both knew Titus was not sorry. After a moment of silence, Cor asked, “What happened? I don’t recall getting back.” “That’s ‘cause I knocked you out.” For the first time, since they had arrived in Hawaii, Titus switched on the TV and selected a news channel, keeping the volume on zero – they were conveniently talking about an 'unusual explosion at the old port, with many dead bodies and unseen assailants’. “You kind of went all ‘Immortal’ again, even snapped at Izunia. Yelled, that you didn’t want to be touched and that ‘Cor’ wasn’t your name.” Cor nodded quietly. “To me, it looked very much like you weren’t quite there at that moment.” For a moment, he contemplated on how to answer, then, opted for the simplest of responses: “It happens... sometimes” Glancing sideways, Cor could see that the other man was paying him his undivided attention. “A mind clouded by emotion or pain is a mind at the verge of death. Sometimes, Gilgamesh would push me over that edge just to see what would happen and train me to get better with it.” He took another sip from the bottle before putting it aside, laying back down, angling his feet to take some of the pressure off his midsection. “It helps calm the mind, I don’t care much about anything and just do what I need to do – kinda like instinct.”

When it became evident, that the hitman would not provide more information, Titus spoke up, “That was nothing like instinct. That was conditioned into you. That...” He froze and somehow, distantly, some dots connected – sometimes he was slow on the uptake, was he not?! “It’s the same as at ARL, isn’t it?” Cor nodded. “I asked him for help. Punishment didn’t help and I couldn’t forget. I wanted it to stop.” “Rather than sorting things out like any normal human being, you let that man what... beat you black and blue? Just so you don’t have to deal with some pesky emotions? Didn’t take you for a coward!” Cor’s neck cracked loudly when he snapped his head around to stare at the other man. “Say that again!” “Coward.” Titus replied unimpressed. Cor hissed, propping himself up onto his elbow; his aggression suddenly very palpable. “You have no right calling me that.” Raising an eyebrow, Titus turned a little towards the other man. “Then, do tell what should I call your behaviour then? As far as I know, taking the easy way out means being a coward.” It may have been a little too extreme and not quite true, but the hitman’s stunt had almost cost them Regis’ life back then and theirs last night, so, he was not going to be nice! “You better stop talking now.” the hitman snarled. Titus just continued remaining unimpressed. Seconds ticked by without either man backing out of that silent battle they were waging, gazes locked onto another. “Or. What?” Growling, the hitman leaned forward. “You’ll have to do better than that, Leonis.” When nothing happened, Titus pressed on, “Did you turn from soldier to rabid dog now – no mind on its own?” Despite his aching body, Cor moved swiftly. In one motion, he was onto the Captain, trying to punch him, but the other moved out of the way, bracing one arm onto the nightstand as to not fall off the bed, the other hand catching the other’s wrist. “Do you always need to be told what do to?” “No!” Cor roared, trying to pull his arm back, but the man did not let go. Instead, the small table rolled away and the taller man lost his balance.

Falling backwards, Cor was pulled along. With a surprised yelp, Titus landed on his upper back, his ass and legs still up on the bed, held up by Cor’s weight, who was partially draped over them and partially holding himself up on one arm. “Fuck...” the hitman gasped painfully, his arm shaking under his weight. Titus let go of the other’s wrist to let Cor brace himself further, but his arm gave out before he could do so and he slid further down. The Captain was forced to exhale when the hitman's heavy body pushed into his diaphragm. He groaned painfully as Cor tried to move and kneed him in the groin. “Stop moving... idiot.” Titus wrapped his arms around the hitman and then pushed with his legs. Sliding over the carpet, the Captain managed to drag them into a more comfortable position on the ground. With his ass safely on the carpet, his legs still up on the bed and Cor pressed into his chest, his body curled around him, Titus heaved a little, muttering a few curses under his breath – too much exercise for one day! One minute of silence ticked by, then another, until he could hear Cor mutter, “I’m no coward.” “Then, stop running away.” Titus’ voice was loud and angry when he replied – his patience finally having reached its limit. “I’m not...” “Yes, you are! He’s still in your head. It's in everything you do; you don’t even notice it. It’s all about reward and punishment – pleasure and pain.” Cor remained quiet at that, unsure what to say. “I may be slow on the uptake at times, but I’m not blind. Cor!” Titus deflated a little. “You're a mess. I told you before, you have to move on. He’s gone now. Don’t let his actions define who you are!” After a heavy sight, he continued, “And stop hitting my balls. That’s the second time now.” Titus carded his fingers through Cor’s hair, the man apparently not showing signs to move anytime soon. “I get it, okay? It’s not easy. Emotions are a bloody pain in everyone’s arse, not just yours. But they’re there. You might as well just accept them.” “It’s easier without them.” “It is. But that’s no reason to let yourself be treated like some dog. You almost killed Regis and that parrot who calls himself your brother.” He could feel Cor nod. “Don’t let yourself be pulled into this... whatever it was, again. Otherwise, I’ll beat your arse six ways to Sunday. Hurt or not, I don’t give a shit.” Another nod.

When they still had not moved after five minutes, Titus tapped lightly against the hitman’s thigh, the other humming lowly – apparently Cor had dozed off again. “Get off and back to bed. I’m no pillow.” Another low hum, but the man did not move. Titus sighed exasperated – apparently, he was dealing with a hitman gone dog with a tendency of being cuddly; the fuck? “Cor! Be a good dog and get into bed. Now!” And finally, the man moved, releasing a long sigh. Slowly, he raised himself off the Captain’s comfortable chest by a few inches and looked at him. Something flashed in the hitman’s eyes that reminded Titus very much of the maroon-haired hitman when he was planning something, he would certainly dislike. “Woof!” Cor said, voice low, and a moment later, he pressed his tongue flat against the Captain’s skin, licking one long strip across his pectoral. “You’re a menace.” he grabbed Cor by his shoulders and pushed him off. After some back and forth, they ended up under the covers of their bed, a small ‘safety distance’ between them as per Titus’ demand – they were still close enough for the Captain to reach the hitman’s head and card through his hair. 

That day, they had ordered room service; scared the poor concierge who had brought them the food with their appearance alone – the young boy had never seen anyone this beaten-up before and hurried away quickly after delivering their meals. They also had quickly checked in with the other two men and, after Ardyn had socked Cor in the jaw for being an infuriating shit, they hid themselves away under the blankets again, sleeping; healing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy. :)


	35. For your leasure

By the end of the week, the four men were back on their feet again, mostly at least. They had kept track of the investigation at the warehouse via TV and Cor’s handy little netbook which Ardyn had used to hack into the local police’s computer. Regis had phoned Titus once after seeing the news on TV but the Captain had just shrugged at the lightly hysterical voice from his superior and hung up again, not bothering to explain anything over phone. Nyx was the first one to run around again, he had been the one with the least bruises after all, so, he had elected himself the ‘responsible adult’ who kept an eye out for the other three. On Friday, the four were able to have regular breakfast in the restaurant again. For once, they were sitting outside, enjoying the sun; even the two hitmen had dropped their suits in favour of comfortable clothes, with Ardyn being his colourful self again. 

“This. Is what I call a day off!” Ardyn chimed satisfied and stretched in his chair. “Work done and no additional training sessions because we screwed up this or that.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I could get used to this.” “You make it sound like everything he did was bad. And we’re not done yet.” “Uhm, hello? Did you look at us, brother-dearest? I wouldn’t call us exactly great. Especially not after your little stunt!” Cor raised his eyebrow; he knew what was coming next. Three, two, one... “I can’t believe you asked him for that back then! And you almost got me killed now too. And don’t give me that look, mister, I am still angry at you for not telling me. And you...” Ardyn jabbed his finger right into Titus’ face. “... better make sure he gets his comeuppance. Put him on a leash or somethin’.” Not deigning that comment worth a response, the Captain continued drinking his coffee quietly. Finishing his own cup, Ardyn got up. “I will now excuse myself. I’m going to spend the rest of this fabulous day at the beach. Doodles.” And with that, the hitman sauntered away. “I second that, actually. But first, I need to get some souvenirs for the others, otherwise they’ll have my head.” Nyx commented, popping a slice of watermelon into his mouth. “What about you guys?” Titus shrugged and Cor nodded towards a small building with tainted windows. “Training.” “And that’s my cue to leave this table. Before someone has the stupid idea to make it mandatory for all attendees.” The Captain smirked and tilted his head a little as if he were actually thinking about it. Nyx was gone within the next second. Frowning, Cor looked after the younger agent practically running away. He moved his gaze over to the taller man. “Will you join me? I could do with a challenge.” “Can’t. Regis sent me 40 text messages since I cut him off the other day. And I want to keep my job for a little while longer. Perhaps after.” 

20 minutes later, Cor had left their room hurriedly, while Titus had called up Regis for that dreadful meeting. As soon as his superior had answered the phone, the Captain was showered with questions, orders, requests, complaints and threats – the hitman did not envy him. It took Titus 10 minutes to sort through the constant string of words that made up all of Regis’ questions and complaints. It took him another five to answer the most important ones and then provide a status update. Half an hour later, Regis was finally satisfied and had calmed down. “So much for being inconspicuous, I guess.” his boss sighed. “Wasn’t like we had much of a choice.” “At least you’re all safe and sound.” “Yeah...” Titus had conveniently neglected to mention how badly they got beaten-up and he would be damned if he did now. “How are things going, otherwise?” And there was the pesky, nosy little asshole he sometimes wanted to get his hands on to throttle properly. “Quiet.” “I hope you’re enjoying some time on the beach?” “I’m hanging up now.” “You can’t hang up on your Boss, Titus. Send us a postcard, and take a few pictures.” “Good bye, Regis.” And the call ended. The Captain inhaled deeply and held his breath, enjoying the silence for a little before exhaling. He threw his phone onto the table and tilted his head at the thought that had wormed its way to the forefront of his mind: the other man had not brought his phone. Surprised, he decided to ask later – it was astonishing that someone was not carrying a smartphone these days. Changing into something more appropriate for a work-out, he headed out. 

Titus had seen Cor train before, of course; when he was in his cell doing body-weight exercises and katas. He had not seen him with weights thus far though, and when he entered the gym, his step faltered momentarily; the man was squatting with a heavy-bar on his shoulders, holding what looked suspiciously like his own body weight easily. The black keikogi bottoms may have been hiding his legs, but they did little to not accentuate that ass. The black shirt was drenched and clung to his back. Titus cleared his throat and Cor turned slightly. “You scare everyone away with those or was it empty already?” The hitman exhaled strongly, pushed up and then squatted back down, holding the position. “Empty.” Finishing his set, Cor put the bar back into its holders and stretched, his back cracking. “Did you manage to keep your job?” he asked and watched Titus start a moderate pace on the treadmill. “Yeah. If Regis gets a postcard.” Cor’s scowl deepened a little, not sure whether to take it as a joke or not. Increasing the pace, Titus grunted, “A fuckin’ postcard...” Okay, it was not a joke, then. He left the taller man to vent on the treadmill and went over to a pull-up-bar, starting on it, keeping an eye on the Captain via the mirrors. Once again, he found himself wondering how the other was this agile with all that muscle mass, but whatever he was doing, it worked. When Cor moved on to clap-push ups, Titus started to bench press. Finishing with his set first, the hitman sat in seiza and took a sip from his water bottle, waiting; watching. The Captain wore MMA shorts and a dark-red tank top, which looked very familiar to him – wait, did the other not tell him he could lift more than him? When Titus sat up, Cor tilted his head, a small smirk gracing his lips. “How about a game?” 

Needless to say what that game included. After 400 squats plus weights, Titus was forced to yield. Adamant as he was, he had agreed to ‘play’ along and Cor had made him push through his circuit. At the end of it, his quads and glutes were burning and he had to admit that he might have neglected leg-day a little – he was a hands-on person after all. And that became very evident when he retaliated by having Cor do his upper body circuit. The hitman bravely pushed through but, eventually, had to lose a few kilos off the bar. They finished with a nice set of 200 press-ups and by then, they were both just dripping. At the last set, Cor was wheezing – he even hit his forehead on the ground once when he was unable to press up again. Muttering a quiet “fuck” he turned onto his back and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’ll be feeling this tomorrow.” he said, his voice a little strained. “That’s for all those damn squats, lunges and tuck jumps. Revenge’s a bitch!” Titus laughed between gasps, looking down at the other man overhead. Cor hummed. “It was fun watching you jump though. It reminds me of jumping brown bears.” “Bastard!” the Captain growled and dipped down, capturing the other man’s lips with his own. Opening his mouth, Cor flicked his tongue against the other’s playfully before allowing them both to retreat into his wet cavern. He reached for Titus’ hair and gripped the wet strands. When they separated, Titus nosed Cor’s goatee. “Shower, then food.” “And that postcard.” Grumbling, the taller man pulled back. “Don’t remind me.” 

Half an hour later, they left the hotel in search for a good restaurant and a postcard. They had no issue finding the latter, what did turn out as a problem, though, was the fact that nobody seemed to sell stamps. After the fourth seller had looked at Titus as if he were a demon from hell, the Captain had given up, muttering something along the lines of “fuck Regis, fuck my job” and left the poor seller behind, scared shitless. Cor just followed wordlessly, secretly enjoying this far too much. When they walked past a small restaurant, they both stopped and looked at it, assessing. It looked run-down and worn-out, strangely, a lot of locals seemed to walk in and out of it. But damn, it smelled wonderful. “Doesn’t smell too bad.” “Let’s find out?” The two men walked over and inside, earning themselves a couple of scrutinizing looks. A waiter came over and led them to a small table, leaving a one-page menu with them. Cor looked at it for a second and frowned. “I have no idea what this all translates to.” he said and handed the menu over. Titus pulled his phone out and started googling. “What do you prefer: beef, pork, chicken, fish?” “Chicken.” The Captain acknowledged his answer with a nod. “Why didn’t you bring your phone?” “There was no need for it. I have nobody to call.” At that, the Captain looked up momentarily. “I only have three numbers saved: Gilgamesh’s, Ardyn’s and yours.” “I moved up in the food chain, hooray.” the other man rumbled amused, earning himself one of Cor’s killer glares. When the waiter returned with some water, Titus ordered for them both. 

“How did you end up as a profiler?” That question was random, and it showed on Titus’ face. It took him a second to collect his wits, so he could reply. “Regis found me on one of his night-outs with Clarus, dozing in a corner; pissed as a fart. My job had ruined my life and I had hit rock-bottom. All those lies and killing...” Titus shrugged. “When I woke up in the hospital, Regis was there, had my file in one hand and a contract in the other. Said, I could try to save lives rather than take them.” Cor nodded, but remained silent. “I doubt I’d be alive if it wasn’t for that sleek bastard. Kind of owe him and the rest spiralled off from there.” Another nod. They both fell into silence until their food was served. Looking at his plate, Cor nodded appreciatively and said, “I am impressed, you ordered chicken.” “Thank fuck for Google.” “Did Google also tell you what that’s supposed to be?” Eyeing his food, the Captain stabbed it with his fork. “Some pork... in leaves...” he replied, but some uncertainty was laced in his voice nonetheless. “Only one way to find out. There’s worse ways to go.” Titus bravely cut a slice off and tried it. After a moment, he hummed. “Good.” The hitman’s lips quirked up at that and he started eating too. 

The local cuisine might look odd to the foreign eye, but it was quite delicious. They even managed to order some dessert, called Po’i, but when it was served, they eyed it even more suspiciously than Titus’ main course before Cor bravely tried it first, arguing that the other already had tested and survived the first round. They agreed, it was not too bad, in fact, it was quite nice. “When are you two flying back?” “Two days.” Cor nodded. “We will be staying. Perhaps, we can track down that guy from the bar.” Pushing the bowl away, the hitman leaned forward. “The bar is getting quieter with each passing minute.” “You noticed too, then.” With the restaurant being completely vacated, both men were on high alert, waiting for what was to come. Eventually, two younger men walked in, all dark hair and dark skin. They seated themselves at a table next to them, blatantly staring. A moment later, a smaller hooded figure appeared, took a chair and pulled it towards their table, sitting down. “You have caused me a lot of trouble lately.” the figure started, voice light. “You tried to blow us up.” The small figure did not reply, instead, just continued: “You destroyed my samples. I want all you have stolen returned to me.” Cor remained silent, leaving the talk to Titus. “That’s against the law.” “I am the law on this island. So, you better listen to me.” the response was a little too quick and too snappy, but the Captain did not show any signs of reacting to it. “No.” he simply said. After a moment, the figure pulled out a smartphone with a Lil’ Malbuddy charm on it. Titus recognized it at once, not showing any physical reaction, though – it was the small charm Nyx had put on his phone after Crowe had died. “I am willing to trade.” Pushing the phone over to the taller man, the figure continued, “You give me what I want and you get back your friends.” After a long pause, he said, “I’m giving you a chance. I could have you all killed. Those two have been enhanced. Do you want to take your chances with them?” The two younger men smiled cockily, just waiting for it. “We don’t have anything with us.” “Of course, not. Bring it to the old port, the warehouse you blew up. I shall meet you there around midnight.” With that, the small figure stood and headed for the door, the two guys following behind, snorting amused. When the restaurant was empty, Titus inhaled deeply, muttering a disgruntled “fuck” under his breath. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done. Enjoy. :)


	36. Fuck your happy endings

When he woke up, the splitting headache almost knocked him out again. Groaning, Ardyn let his head fall forward again and it bumped into something rather soft. Opening his eyes again, he recognized the purple shorts Nyx had been wearing during breakfast. “What the...?” With a grunt, the hitman sat up, or at least, tried. He was unable to move his hands, they kind of stuck to his back, thus, he wormed his way into a sitting position. Looking around hazily, Ardyn took in his surroundings. It was an empty office, dusty and very dirty. When his eyes landed on the other man, he slid up to his head – the young agent was bleeding profusely out of his nose and the side of his eye was coloured in different shades of red, blue and black – someone had evidently punched him into his face with full force. Kicking the man against his shin, Ardyn called out to him. “Hey, Nyx-darling. C’mon, wakey wakey.” The man jerked once and opened his eyes, but shut them again just as quickly. “Fuck, that hurts...” “I bet.” Trying to move his hands, Nyx tried to get up. “Where are we?” “A dusty old office?” "Now... is not the time, Red.” the younger man grumbled, throwing Ardyn an angry glare. “Well, you’d have to be a little more specific with your question, then.” “Alright, fine. What’s the last thing you remember?” For a moment, Ardyn frowned, staring a proverbial hole into the ground. “I was at the beach, ordered something to drink and... that’s it.” Nyx grunted acknowledging. Rubbing his nose against his knee, the black-haired agent exhaled through it. “I don’t remember what happened. Went souvenir shopping, and then all lights went out apparently.” He snorted once and Ardyn shook his head. “You’re disgusting.” “Try to clear your nose off blood with your hands tied behind your back, then, we talk.” he growled and pulled on his restraints to prove his point. Looking outside, Nyx asked, “How long you think we’ve been out?” “Not sure, maybe an hour or two? Sun is still up high, just past its zenith from the looks of it.” When both men heard some commotion outside the room, they visibly tensed, standing up.

Then, the door opened and some native-looking guy walked in, head shaved on the sides and some stripes of dark hair on top – he looked ridiculous, Ardyn decided on the spot. “Da losers are ‘wake, and here I’s hoping to be da wake-up call.” Yepp, this guy was going down; he was practically begging for it already. “Sorry, mate, but I wouldn’t want to see you first thing when waking up. That would only ruin my day.” Nyx shot back with a cocky grin. Ardyn snorted amused. The guy just grimaced. “Joke as much as ya fancy. Ya ain’t getting' outta here, fag!” With fake shock, the younger agent looked at Ardyn. “You hear that? He used a bad word!” “He’s gotta put money into the swear jar.” the hitman agreed, watching with pure delight how the other man just got pissed off more and more at their antics. “I’m sure he’s just jealous.” Ardyn pressed on, “Two dashing men, all tied up, having the fun of their life. And the poor sod needs to watch.” “Totally... wait, what?” Nyx’s mouth was faster than his brain at the moment, but it did not stop him from shooting the hitman a questioning look. “Are we having fun?” he whispered for only the other to hear. The maroon-haired man just shrugged, smiling. “Of course!” he whispered back, moving his arms a little. “Ya asshol’s betta shudit.” the man hissed, grabbing some random plank of wood and breaking it in half. “Oh, hello... someone’s got some anger management issues. Did you ever think about seeing someone about it?” Ardyn took one lazy step forward, and Nyx saw the other man working his hands free of the ropes – the man obviously had a plan. Taking in his surroundings for anything useful, Nyx chimed amused, “That’s the difference between the cool kids and the... well...” Apparently not the smartest, the guy roared and went in for an attack. Ardyn easily evaded and used the rope to cut off the younger man’s air supply, strangling him from behind. He needed all his strength to stay in place and not have the other man pull him forward. In the meantime, Nyx swiftly got up and kicked him against his knee, making the man lose his balance. He was about to kick again, when another guy came rushing through the door and pulled Ardyn off, throwing him a few feet into the room. Muttering a couple of curses under his breath, the younger agent tried to put some space between him and the two guys, but that did not help much when they attacked together. 

When everything was said and done, Nyx and Ardyn were back on the ground, groaning painfully. “Fuckas, kno’ ya place.” “Dude... stop. We gotta keep’em alive fo’ now.” the other said, pulling his companion back, but not looking too happy about it either. “Yeah, da Boss’s gonna use ya and then we slice ya.” The guy said, spitting onto the ground in front of Ardyn. After both had left the room, the young agent groaned. “Still having fun...?” “Absolutely...” Despite the situation, both men chuckled amused. They were in some deep shit. 

The clock on his phone showed ‘11:43’ and he threw it onto the dashboard in front of him. “I don’t like this. Why would he want to have all this data back? It’s easy to copy it all.” “You know the answer to that.” Cor replied matter-of-factly. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Titus rumbled from deep within his throat. He sighed. “Don’t get caught out there. I don’t want to have to be forced to get your arse to safety as well.” The hitman’s lips quirked up momentarily. “You have yet to catch me.” he replied and got out of the car. Titus snarled irritated and a moment later, he could hear the trunk open and close. He put the car into gear and continued his drive towards the old port. 

When the Captain arrived at the warehouse, he could already see Nyx and Ardyn fiercely struggling, but they both ended up on the hard concrete ground. The two guys were there too... just missing the head of their little operation. When the younger agent saw him, he croaked out a “hi, Captain” before getting decked again. Giving them a quick once-over, Titus just sighed – of course those two had to try and get out, just to get beaten-up. A little voice in the back of his head reminded him that he would have done the same thing, so he was not allowed to judge. Good for them, they would never know. 

“Where did you leave your partner?” A familiar light voice from within the shadows said, stepping out of it. “He didn’t quite agree to this. Probably nursing his bruised ego now.” The slim figure walked past him towards the four men. “What a shame, seems you don’t have your agents all that well under control then, Captain.” So, this guy thought Ardyn and Cor were agents – he could work with that. “He’s new. Hasn’t learned the rules yet.” Not being one to get side-tracked, he continued, “I’ve brought your stuff plus sample. You going to let them go or what?” The slim figure waved a gloved hand and the two guys pulled Nyx and Ardyn up, pushing them forward. They stumbled over to the Captain and Ardyn threw him a questioning look which he quickly returned before focussing onto the small figure. He threw that plastic bag onto the ground. “Everything’s in there.” “I am certain it is.” the figure replied quickly, not making any attempts to move towards it, though. All alarms Titus had obtained over the years of crawling through shit and mud went off in his head. This was not right – something was going drastically not according to plan; they should be out killing them by now, why were they not moving? Finally, the figure started speaking again, “You see. The advantage of having a drug that enhances one’s abilities is, that you get friends in very many different places. And some of them, are where you would never guess them to be.” “If you’re talking about the bugs, we found them already.” “I know... but did you ever wonder who put them there?” “You’re surely going to tell me, don’t you?” he rumbled back while he untied Nyx. Pulling out his phone, the figure dialled a number and then put it on speaker, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Put him on the phone.” he said and a moment later, Regis’ voice could be heard. “Titus, sorry. They kind of got us?!” There was some shuffling, then, it was silent again.

The Captain could do nothing to stop himself from tensing visibly – things had just gotten from bad to worse – how the fuck had this guy gotten into their headquarters? Finally, the slim figure pulled off the hoodie and cap, revealing blonde hair and delicate features. “Oh...” For a moment, all three men stared at the guy turned woman, utterly thrown off. “Don’t seem so surprised. You had it all coming.” the woman said calmly. “And why’s that?” “You killed my brother.” Titus raised an eyebrow at that. “You need to be more specific with that.” he deadpanned. “My name is Luna, but the name Ravus Nox-Fleuret will probably sound more familiar to you. He was one of the soldiers at ARL. You... people... killed him.” Inhaling, the Captain crossed his arms in front of his chest – people and their petty shit. “That’s what this is about? Petty revenge?” “You took away my brother. So, I will take away your brothers. Those two men, Regis and Clarus, they are important to you, aren’t they? An eye for an eye as they say.” Luna said, her voice a little higher now; her countenance starting to fade. “Actually, it was my brother and I who killed him. Not them.” The woman’s blue eyes zoned in on Ardyn. “Don’t worry, I’ll find your brother after I am done here. And then, he won’t have to worry about that bruised ego any longer.” she hissed. There was some commotion heard through the phone and then, “Yo, Boss, how long shall we keep those two alive? Can we shoot’em already?” “This fuckin’ bastard. When I get my hands on him...” Nyx exploded and took a step forward when he heard Lazarus’ voice. Titus grabbed his biceps and pulled him back, shaking his head. “Take care of them and then get out.” she said and hung up. “And now to you...” She waved her hand at the two men standing next to her and they squared their shoulders. “... you won’t be getting out of here, so don’t worry about anything. You’ll meet everyone back in hell. Kill them!” The two men moved, quickly, but before they could reach them, one flicked his head back and dropped to the ground. Then, the echo of the shot could be heard. Screaming angrily and surprised, Luna jumped up and started running. “Ulric, move.” Titus barked out and the younger agent started chasing after the blonde. Ardyn and the Captain attacked the other guy. 

This time around, both men were more in tune with each other and they brought down the guy without getting their asses kicked themselves. Ardyn jumped over Titus’ back and kneed the guy into his chest, pushing him back. The Captain followed up with a heavy uppercut that threw him into the dirt and the hitman was on the other’s chest at once, continuously punching him, attempting to break through the other’s guard. When he was thrown off, Titus picked up where the other had left off until his fist connected with the man’s face. He kept going until there was nothing but a pile of broken bones, torn skin, brain matter and blood. In the meantime, Cor had caught up with them. He was panting and his chest heaving, evidently having run all the way at high-speed. The rifle was slung over his back, earning a raised eyebrow from Ardyn. “Where did you get that beauty?” “Police car.” he breathed and pointed into the direction Luna and Nyx had disappeared in. “They are both on foot, she led him further into the maze of buildings, cargo and shipping containers. I couldn’t see where exactly they went to. It will be difficult to track them.” Cor explained, taking another deep breath. “I don’t give a bloody damn, that bitch is dead.” Titus growled and ran off. Looking at Ardyn, Cor’s frown deepened. “Seems there will be a change in management soon.” the maroon-haired hitman supplied uselessly, following suit – the fuck did he miss? 

Luna was incredibly fast for someone with such delicate stature, Nyx had to admit that. There was nothing he could do but follow when she cut corners and jumped around like some deer trying to escape the tiger. The young woman ran up the stairs of a building and he came after her, almost tripping over some pipes. Evidently, Luna knew this place much better than he did, using it to her advantage. She tried to slam a door into his face, but he simply tackled that thing out of its hinges, regretting it immediately, when he bumped his nose against it. Stumbling backwards, Luna struggled to keep her balance, eventually falling down. She grabbed one of the random paper stacks and threw them at Nyx, giving herself enough time to get back onto her feet and continue the chase. Muttering a string of curses, Nyx rushed after her, but tripped again in the almost-complete darkness. He fell forward against the balustrade and barely managed to not fall over and down. Looking around, he saw Luna jump down another set of stairs, and he sprinted after her, skipping the last few steps, landing right behind her. Nyx reached out and his fingers came in contact with the hoodie. He went for it, gripped it tight and yanked his arm back, Luna yelped and stumbled a little. She tried to fight him off, but Nyx managed to get one arm locked in, so she could not do much more. Despite her struggles, he kept pulling at her, exerting more pressure on her joints, making her groan in pain. “Shut it, missy. You're... under arrest. And stop struggling, I promise I will break that arm.” “So what? It doesn’t matter. I win.” “I said, shut up...” he grunted and pulled her all the way back to where their chase had started off. 

Halfway, he saw the other three men already looking for them and he hollered to get their attention but regretted it immediately, when he saw the Captain march over; all murderous intent and barely contained fury. He literally pulled the smaller woman out of his lock and pushed her against a nearby wall, lifting her up easily. “Uhm, Captain...?” “You stay out of this, Ulric. And you give me one good reason to not snap your neck, woman!” he snarled, voice laced with pure hatred. But Luna just kept smiling. “I don’t need a good reason. You reap what you sow...” Spitting into the tall man’s face, Luna expected the man to simply follow through with his promise to snap her neck, but suddenly, his phone started ringing. Literally everyone, her included, froze. “Captain, you might wanna take that call first before killing anyone?” Nyx provided uselessly, but his superior did not move. Cor rolled his eyes and went to pull Titus’ phone out of the back pocket of his jeans, answering it. “Yes?” Immediately, he pulled away from the phone when Clarus’ voice shrilled through. Rather than going near that thing again, he put the phone on speaker. “... and Khara got us out. They noticed something was off. We’re alright, Titus... hello?” At that, Cor replied, “Titus is a little preoccupied.” “Cor? Are you all alright? Lazarus said they were coming after you all.” “We’re good, Boss.” the younger agent chimed in, exhaling long and slowly. “Nyx, buddy, you cool?” That was Khara. “Yeah, mate. All cool. Bad guy... uh, girl, got caught.” “Good. We’re good here as well. The Boss got a big bump on the head and a bruised ego, but otherwise all’s good.” The other agent sighed – fucking finally some good news. Even Titus relaxed a little, his posture changing from ‘you die’ to ‘you’re fucked’, especially when he saw the pure disbelief in the woman’s face.

It quickly turned into anger though and she started struggling again, screaming. “No, this is not right. This won’t do!” she screamed high-pitched, trying to get out of the strong grip, but in vain. “Give me one good reason to knock you out and I’ll oblige. We’re taking you in.” the Captain snarled threateningly and Luna tried to ignore the fear she could feel bubbling in the pit of her stomach – things were not supposed to go this way. “No. I refuse. I pay you. Whatever you want! You two, how about it? It’s better than a pesky little job with the FBI. We can have much more fun!” Luna begged, looking at the two hitmen. Both men exchanged a quick glance before Ardyn shrugged. “Who can say no to that? We love fun!” the maroon-haired hitman said, and a moment later, Titus heard Cor ready the rifle and Nyx gasp. “Uh... guys?” the younger agent breathed, unsure of what just had happened. “Let go of her, Titus.” came Cor’s cold calm voice – so, that is how it was? “And if I don’t?” he asked just as calmly. A second later, he could feel the barrel nudge the back of his head. “Guys, seriously!” “Shut it, Nyx.” Ardyn hissed, throwing him the Captain’s phone. “We’re taking her with us. And you won’t stop us.” Wordlessly, Titus put Luna down and stepped aside. The woman was weary, but glad to get away from the tall man. Quickly, she hurried over to stand next to the maroon-haired hitman. “Thank you. I’ll pay you, whatever you want. Just get me out of here.” she said, her voice so sickeningly delicate and sweet, Nyx wanted to vomit. “Don’t you worry darling. You won’t get locked up; we’ll make sure of that.” Ardyn smiled at her and stepped away. Cor followed a moment later, rifle still trained on the Captain. “Are you sure about this, Leonis?” Titus asked, still staring at the wall in front of him. "Yes.” The hitman retreated further until he reached the car the other man had arrived in. Ardyn had jump-started it quickly and they left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I never played the game - evidently, but Gen was very adamant about missy being the badsy, so, here we go. As always, do enjoy. :)


	37. That's it? Really? How anti-climatic was that?

The ride had been everything but quiet. They had driven along the coast, following Luna’s instructions. The woman was obviously very glad to have gained two more allies and she was talking about how she had gotten the bugs set up, Lazarus’ team on her side and her next steps, promising them a hefty reward for their services rendered. When they finally had arrived at some secluded beach hut, the woman jumped out of the car and Ardyn followed, taking Cor’s rifle, who remained sprawled over the back seats, thoughts evidently someplace else. “We need to get rid of it.” he stated, letting his fingers run over the long barrel. “Yes.” When Luna came back, she carried a small bag with her. “Let’s get out of here guys, there is work to be done.” she chimed happily, earning a raised eyebrow from Ardyn. “Lazarus and the other’s disappointed me. I want those men dead, no matter the price.” she continued. “And... if you’re willing... I’ll pay even more than what I already offered you.” Ardyn rolled his eyes. “You know what. Just stop babbling and start dying already. Thank you very much!” The hitman dropped the gun, moved in and snapped the woman’s neck in one swift motion. Staring down at the dead body, he shrugged. “That was... all so incredibly anti-climatic, I almost can’t believe it. All this effort for naught but revenge. What a shame!” Cor agreed with a low hum. 

After both hitmen had left, the two agents had returned to the hotel. They both had opted to walk; public transport was no option at this time of day and they did not want to take a cab, feeling too on edge with the events that had played out. Ulric had slammed the door shut behind him, once they were back and noted distantly that the Captain had done the same. Neither man said it out loud, but they did feel played. They did not sleep either and neither did they bother doing anything. They only went out for breakfast and dinner as usual, but that was it – the two remaining days were crawling by at a snail’s pace. On their last day, when they had returned from dinner, the hitmen’s things had disappeared out of their respective rooms. Drautos had roared furiously and punched the mirror in the bathroom so hard, the neighbouring elderly couple had felt the wall shake on their side. 

When they had shown up at the headquarters, Regis and Clarus had pulled them straight into a break-out room and the two agents had updated their bosses. They filled in each other on the holes in the overall picture and completed the puzzle at long last: Regis and Clarus had told them of Elshett’s and Khara’s heroics to help them against Lazarus and his little idiotic group of traitors, and the two agents told them what had happened on their end, with the two hitmen being bought out and betraying them. At least, they were able to close the cases of Aldercapt, Ulldor and Besithia. The Board of Directors was pleased with that outcome; fortunately, they only knew half of the things that had truly happened and they did not include the events in Hawaii. A few days later though, Elshett had called them all into a meeting room, the TV screen showing some news about a ‘blonde woman having been killed and dumped into the water’ in Kahalu’u and the police having found evidence of her leading some drug ring – this had raised a few questioning eyebrows, to say the least. And of course, the Board had called in Regis at once and demanded an explanation he was all too happy to give them – thanks to the others, he had enough time to prepare for it and cook up a nice logical explanation. It took Regis a whole week to sort things out and calm the heated discussions on the questionable ethical conduct of certain situations. However, the Board was easily swayed by the media’s positive feedback on the ‘Glaive’s amazing work’ on solving this mammoth case. By the end of the week, everything had gone back to its usual ways. The kids returned back home, not needed to camp out in the small safehouse any longer and the Glaive continued their work. Despite having been decimated, they kept going, kept on working on other cases that came through – always looking forward. 

It was Friday night, and their little group were out in a bar, drinking. It had been Khara’s idea, seeing that Ulric and Drautos needed some obvious cheering up. Unlike their Captain, who had just buried himself in more work and some insane training routines, Ulric had been so moody, he had scared away the new recruits who had been sent over from the BAU for a trial run. Regis had tried once to talk to them both, but to no avail. Thus, they were all sitting around a small table now, not talking about anything in particular – it was a little awkward to keep the conversation going if the two people intended to partake refused. The later the hour, the less crowded the bar got until it was almost empty. Just past midnight, a somewhat happier Nyx had had left with Elshett and Khara – Ostium had picked them up by car. Regis and Clarus had stayed behind, keeping an eye on the Captain nursing his half-empty bottle of high-percentage whiskey; the man was evidently trying to get hammered as much as he could. In fact, he was already very drunk, reduced to replying to questions only with a grunt or a shake of his head. When Clarus returned to the table – Drautos was not even sure when the other had left – he and Regis pulled him out of his chair, stating that he had had enough for the night and dragged him to a cab, ignoring his mumbled complaints. They drove over to his place and managed to heave him up the stairs and in front of his apartment. The Captain had growled at them to leave him be, not wanting anyone’s help and eventually, the two men had given up. He managed to clumsily open the door and stumble the distance towards the sofa by himself before falling onto it.

On the table were the bottles from the days before and it was enticing to just continue where he had left off at the bar – perhaps this time it would put him out of his misery. He leaned forward and tried to grab one that still had some liquor left, but he was unable to reach the bottle – his hand was strangely not moving, but still in the air? “You’ve had enough for tonight.” said a calm voice and Drautos grunted, shaking his head – when had the little voice in his head gotten this loud? “Not ’nough.” he managed to mutter somehow and tried to move his hand again. “Fug’off.” he snarled when said hand did not move, rather, something folded it back to his body. The next thing the Captain could feel was being dragged by something nice and warm somewhere and thrown onto something soft. Whatever it was, it felt quite nice and just a second later he was out for the count. 

When he woke up, it was to a splitting headache. Out of habit, he rolled onto his side and reached for his phone on the nightstand, opening one eye to glance at the bright screen. He groaned loudly, even that little bit of light was enough to make his head throb even more. “Fuck...” Titus rolled back onto his back, closing his eye again – he really did not want to think, but how the fuck had he ended up in his bed? He groaned again and sat up slowly. He needed water, his mouth tasted vile and all he could smell was alcohol. He dragged his legs out of bed and propped his elbows onto his thighs, hiding his face in his hands when he felt a little sick. In his periphery, he noticed a glass of water and some tablets next to his phone. Titus frowned, he surely had been drunk last night and he doubted he had had enough of a mind left to actually think about water and pain killers... and stop, right there. No more thinking! He grabbed the glass and tablets and downed them in one go.

The water washed away the terrible taste in his mouth, but now he had another problem, he needed to piss. So many problems, and not enough brain capacity to sort through them. Groaning again, he got up and dragged himself out of his bedroom over to the bathroom, not even bothering to close the door behind him. When he was done, he stumbled over to the sink, washing his hands, rinsing his mouth properly. A quick glance into the mirror told him he looked just as bad as he felt; his stubble had grown into a short but thick beard by now. “Fuck my life.” he snarled irritated at his mirror image. Turning, he almost slipped, not expecting anyone to be around – especially not him. Muttering a string of curses, he leaned against the washing machine, hiding his eyes behind his hand. He really had zero nerves for this right now. “Get out.” he grumbled unamused. “No.” Cor replied, not moving from his position on the door. Titus grumbled something incoherent and made his way back to his bedroom, pushing the hitman carelessly out of his way. “Do what you want, but leave me be.” he muttered quietly in passing. The taller man slammed the door to his bedroom shut and crawled underneath his covers again, trying to hide away from the world and that terrible headache. 

He had stayed in bed all day, dozing in and out of sleep, the headache slowly ebbing off. At some point, he had received a text from Clarus, asking how we was doing and he had replied with a quick ‘peachy’. Towards the evening, he was somewhat back to his usual self, the headache had given way to bubbling anger again. Part of him wanted to go and demand an explanation whereas the other part just wanted the man to disappear back to where he had come from. Eventually, he had opted for the explanation, he was not one to shy away from anything! Hence, mind made up, he got up again – first things first though: he needed a shower. Then, they would talk. 

Cor did not react when Titus left the room and walked back into the bathroom. He waited patiently until the man had finished his much-needed hygiene and only when the door opened again, did he turn his head. The Captain looked more like himself this time around; wearing a fresh set of dark-grey slacks and a black shirt, the thick beard trimmed down to the familiar stubble, hair still in disarray but the stink of alcohol finally gone. Titus returned his gaze, staring down at him where he was sitting in seiza. He moved over to the sofa and fell onto it. “I’m listening.” he snapped, putting every ounce of anger he could muster into those two words, making sure he got his point across. “You uphold the law. We break it. We couldn’t allow you to take her in, she saw us. You wouldn’t have been able to explain why two assassins were there with you. It would have caused you more trouble than solved anything.” “So, what... you tried to help?” Titus asked after a few seconds of silence ticked by. “Yes.” “Fuck you, you played us. Find the target and clean up, that’s what you did. You used us!” Despite the fury he could hear in the Captain’s voice, Cor remained calm. “We couldn’t let you take her in. She had too much information on the drug, on us; we couldn’t risk the chance of her making a deal. Your hands are tied by the law you’re upholding. We were not willing to have you throw away your life for something that we can easily be blamed for!” “Oh, thank fucking hell for your help then. I am so relieved you bit the bullet and shouldered the blame.” Titus barked out, sarcasm practically dripping off each word. “Call it whatever you want. Our intentions were good.” “Then you should’ve told us, you bloody fuckin’ moron!” Titus pulled himself up, his hand automatically reaching for Cor’s hair, pulling at the short strands, forcing the other to crane his neck to look at him. “Secrets are what ruin people. You should know this better than anyone by now!” “I did what I felt to be the best option at the time.” the hitman replied, voice unwavering. There was something flashing through the taller man’s eyes, but it was gone before Cor could decipher it; it seemed that the other wanted to say something else, but he refrained from doing so. Cor frowned. “What?” he asked. “Nothing.” the other replied quickly – as if. Titus let go of his hair and let himself fall back onto the too-small sofa, glaring at the ceiling.

Cor shifted around; so, that he was facing the man with his front. “Tell me.” “Fuck off.” “You’re angry. Again.” The Captain sighed, maybe it had not been such a good idea to talk now, his brain was still largely mush. “How many times do we have to go over this, Cor? We’re running in circles here and I’m... I don’t have the mental fortitude to keep wondering whether you’ll go rogue on me again or not. Do you trust me so little that you can’t confide in me?” The answer came without hesitation. “I do. Trust you.” “Then you have a weird way of showing that.” Now, it was Cor who sighed. “Ardyn said the same thing.” Titus raised a brow and let his gaze fall onto the other man who was rubbing the back of his neck. “Did he, now?” “He said it was a bad idea, called me stubborn, too.” “The parrot was right. With both.” “I refuse to apologize for something I think was right.” the hitman said stubbornly, locking eyes with the other man – so what, if he was stubborn? “But I’ll do better. Your trust won’t be betrayed.” “You’re exhausting!” Titus said, inhaling deeply. “And I haven’t gotten properly started yet.”

“Fuck my life.” The Captain draped one arm over his eyes, laughing, a little lost at the situation. Cor huffed amused. “I don’t know how you’ll achieve that. But you’re welcome to fuck me... if you want.” At that, Titus’ ears perked up. He moved his arm a little, so he could look at the hitman again. “You think we have a talk and then make up like schoolkids? I’m still pissed at you and I’d rather strangle than fuck you right now.” Cor just shrugged. “Both things are not mutually exclusive.” “You’re into some weird shit.” “I’m blaming you for it.” The tall man barked out a laugh. “Seriously?” “If you hadn’t kissed me, this wouldn’t have happened. Ever. I can assure you of that.” came the matter-of-factly response. How their conversation had moved from important to this, Titus did not know, but the ridiculousness of it did soothe the anger, it was distracting. “Well... my sincerest apologies for thinking your backside looked quite hot in those jeans. Guess, my brain has moved into my dick as of late. Which did not happen before you showed up. Here is to the pot calling the kettle black.” The Captain snarled back with no actual heat behind his words. Cor’s lips quirked up a little and Titus saw that gleam in the other man’s eyes which he knew by now promised trouble. The hitman stood up and took a step closer towards him, leaning down into his space. “How about you make do of that promise to mark me? Perhaps then, I’ll be more inclined to... behave?” Cor said with a hint of a smile and continued on towards the bedroom. Trying to wrap his head around what just happened, Titus exhaled through his nose, fighting the funny feeling in his gut. This guy was going to be the end of him. “Fuck my life.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Act I done... yey... enjoy. :)


	38. Less talking, more acting

When he entered his bedroom, Cor had already finished unbuttoning the vest and dress shirt, the tie hanging loosely around his neck, the belt holding up his jeans unbuckled. Only now did he pay attention to what the hitman was wearing – it was the same deep-blue vest he had seen before, with a black dress shirt and that damn blue tie, but rather than appropriate pants, he had donned a pair of black jeans that left nothing to imagination. And he was barefoot – which was surprising, considering there was no carpet anywhere in the apartment, and the floor was cold. The man looked at him with his trademark scowl, not a single emotion visible on his features, everything was hidden in those deep blue eyes. Stepping in close behind the other man, Titus let his hand cup the front of Cor’s jeans, squeezing hard. “You. Are making it very difficult to stay angry.” he whispered into the hitman’s ear, who let out a small breath. “Be angry as you are, but I did it to help.” “If you wanted to help, you should have said so. Not do it behind my back.” the Captain replied, increasing the pressure that it definitely became unpleasantly painful. He could hear the smaller man inhale sharply.

“I won’t apologize, I told you. But I understand that it may not have been the most practical approach.” And Titus increased the pressure just a tad bit more, Cor leaning into him. “You put a gun to my head. I warned you when your brother pulled that stunt and then, you go ahead and do it yourself.” Titus snarled back and bit the other’s neck. Judging from the erratic breathing, he must have been crushing Cor’s balls by now, but he did not care that much. “It was necessary to make it look the part. If that call hadn’t come through, you would have killed her anyway.” That, he could agree with, and so, he did: “You’re right. I would have... slowly and painfully.” “It’s not your place to kill anymore. That’s what I am here for.” “What you’re here for...” The taller man let go of Cor and pushed him with too much force onto the bed. The other landed on his side but rolled onto his back quickly to see the Captain crawl over him. “I don’t need you to make my decisions for me.” he snarled and pushed the hitman into the sheets, leaning down with him, their noses mere inches apart, gazes locked. “I. Don’t. Need. You!” Undeterred, Cor hummed in agreement. “You don’t. But you want me.” It almost sounded like a question and if the Captain’s brain had not already dropped between his legs, he would have noticed the couple of hidden layers that statement contained.

Growling, Titus closed the gap, pressing his lips against Cor’s. He bit angrily at his upper lip until the hitman opened his mouth and let him in, his tongue stubbornly fighting back. When the smaller man bit his tongue, Titus simply snarled and pushed in further, teeth clacking unpleasantly, not minding the coppery taste. The Captain moved one hand to grab Cor’s jaw, but then, decided otherwise and lowered it to his throat, thumb pressing roughly onto his Adam’s apple, feeling it move. When they broke apart, Cor tilted his head to the side, offering the long strip of pale skin to Titus. And the man accepted it; biting down firmly onto the strong SCM hidden underneath it, eliciting a partially suppressed moan from the hitman – the coppery taste was just a nice add-on. 

Littering Cor’s throat with more bites until the whole side was just an angry red, Titus’ hands went to work further down. He undid the man’s button and fly and tugged at the fabric until Cor lifted his hips, allowing him to pull jeans and shorts down until the man could kick them off himself. The Captain’s mouth made its way further down, over the other’s clavicle, along his chest, to a nipple; biting down on it. The hitman's pained groans sounded wonderful. Meanwhile, one of his hands had moved to the man’s cock, stroking it roughly, purposefully avoiding the little pre-cum on the tip that might have helped with the burning sensation. Cor wriggled under him and when he tried to grab his hair, Titus forced his hand back down. “You! Don’t get a say in this.” At that, Cor snarled. The Captain just growled back and pulled at his tie until it came loose completely, feeling the fabric between his fingers – this would do nicely. Titus dipped further down and licked along the underside of Cor’s cock up to his slit and the man shuddered – he was already hard and they had not even gotten started properly.

He pulled the tie down and wrapped it tightly around the base of the other’s cock and his sack. Cor bucked up at that, groaning at the uncomfortable tightness and Titus pulled once at the end of the tie for good measure. “Fuck...” Groaning, the hitman pulled himself up, staring down at what the other man had done to him. “I told you, you don’t get a say in this. You behave, and maybe I’ll fuck you. And maybe you even get to cum.” Tugging again, the Captain leaned up onto his knees, his crotch right in front of Cor’s face, waiting. Frowning, the hitman needed a moment before connecting the dots, but when he did, he looked up at the other man, accepting the silent demand. He leaned in a little further, feeling the outline of the Captain’s confined cock with his fingers before moving them to the seam of his slacks. Cor was a little thrown off when he pulled the fabric down – how had that thing fit inside of him? Oh, well... he was not one to back down from a challenge. Closing the gap, Cor started mouthing at the underside of Titus’ cock, flicking his tongue out every now and then to taste the other man. He took the quiet hum as confirmation to proceed, so, he nudged his nose against the thick shaft, tracing his tongue down to Titus’ testes, grazing his teeth over the sensitive skin and back up to the man’s frenulum. Cor looked up whenever his position allowed it, enjoying the taller man’s struggle to refrain from moving; he knew he wanted to, he could feel his muscles tensing and relaxing – perhaps he could break that self-control?

He worked his way down and back up the thick shaft and licked over the glans; the pre-cum tasted bitter, nevertheless, he opened his mouth and let the cockhead sink into his wet cavern. That did earn him a low growl; it was nice, but not quite what he wanted. Cor let the head rub against his palate while his tongue flicked over the rest. He wrapped his fingers around the other’s girth and twisted and squeezed, even used his teeth to bite down until, finally, Titus snapped his hips forward, choking out a low “fuck”. When the other man’s cockhead hit the back of his throat, Cor was forced to pull back, coughing. He wiped his mouth with his hand before leaning back in, taking the Captain back into his mouth; quietly wondering how the other had managed to take all of him so easily. As soon as he felt a firm grip in his hair, he looked up; deep blue meeting pale blue – the taller man’s pupils blown wide, irises reduced to a slim circle. Cor could feel the hand guide him further down on his shaft, and the hitman tried to comply without having to gag again. When he felt close though, he resisted the push and remained as he was. He swallowed once and started licking at the cock inside his mouth again. Titus’ breathing was laboured and the man had to brace himself on Cor’s head; and it did things to him, especially to his aching cock – the hitman was not sure what to do, so he did the next best thing and moaned.

Without warning, the Captain pulled out of his mouth and leaned down to capture his lips, sloppily kissing him while pushing him back into the sheets. Without further ado, Titus worked his way back down, over chest and stomach to Cor’s cock, all the while leaving marks on his skin. He kissed the tip once and then swallowed him whole. The hitman bucked up, crying out. The Captain’s wet heat combined with the painful sensitivity that came along with having his genitals tied together was maddening. And then, there was that hand, tugging at his balls and he was so sensitive, so close... and... he could not cum? “Titus...” Cor rasped heatedly and the man just hummed around his cock and fuck if that did not make him groan even louder. “I can’t. Stop. I can’t. Fuck. Why?” Another hum and the man let off, crawling up to him to look into his blue eyes – a pleased smile on his features. “You won’t cum unless I let you.” The hitman groaned, this time because he was annoyed.

The Captain grabbed his hips and flipped them both around, so that Cor was sitting on his stomach. “Will you behave?” he rumbled, his voice thick with need and a little raspier from giving head. Titus’ finger pressed against the hitman’s slit, playing with it before splitting the urethra open, making the man shudder and moan – it hurt so much, but in a weird nice way. Cor braced himself on the Captain’s chest, pressing his nails into the man’s shirt, his frown carved deep into his brows, his mouth a little open. Swallowing, he mumbled something incoherent and Titus just forced his finger further down, eliciting another loud moan. “What was that?” It took him a little, but then: “I’ll behave.” Cor repeated more clearly, and the taller man chuckled. “Good. Then turn around and move up so I can reach you.” Titus removed his hand from his cock and gave him a sharp clap on his ass.

Cor did as he was told, feeling a little unsure why to sit on the other man’s chest, but when his thighs were pulled up even further, his ass cheeks spread apart and a tongue started licking along his perineum to the tight ring of his anus, his arms folded in on him and he fell forward, resting his forehead against the sharp curve of the Captain’s hip bone. When a finger pushed inside, he groaned loudly – it already felt like too much, but it was not enough and his cock was still demanding its release and oh-so sensitive. Glancing sideways, he turned his head and flicked his tongue out and over the long shaft, feeling like he needed to do something otherwise he would go crazy. Momentarily, Titus’ ministrations ceased. When Cor licked over his girth again, the other let out a primal sound and pushed a second finger in. With a choked-out cry, the hitman propped himself up a little. He grabbed hold of the Captain’s cock and took it into his mouth once more and a moment later, Titus’ fingers rubbed over his prostate, making him moan around the cock in his mouth. 

It was over before his brain had caught up with it and Cor was shoved. Dazed, it took him a second before he realized what the other wanted and slid down, propping himself up over Titus’ cock. The hands on his hips guiding him down and he could feel the man split him open. Cor could hear himself breathe out a raspy “yes” but was too far gone to actually care. And once Titus was buried within him to the hilt, he started moving of his own accord, the fingers on his hips pressing harshly into his skin, pulling him back down every time he came up. He wanted to cum so badly, thus, the hitman turned around to look at Titus. Despite his erratic breathing, the man watched him intently – he was waiting for it, damn him! Another hit against his prostate was enough to convince him, though – no more of this.

“Titus...” Fuck, did his voice sound really that needy? “Say it!” “Fuck, please... please...” “Please, what?” Cor snarled. “Let me cum, you bastard.” With a yelp, Cor was thrown onto his side, Titus pressing against his back, lifting his left leg up and starting to pound into him relentlessly. One hand brushed over his chest and wrapped itself around his throat, squeezing, while the other moved around his thigh and pulled on the tie to loosen it. Cor could feel the pressure ease off at once and he groaned at the feeling. “Good?” “Yes... yes... fuck, yes.” He could feel the Captain bite his trapezius and slam into him with full force, the man’s balls hitting his own with each thrust. Unable to withstand the relentless onslaught for long, he felt himself tense and a second later fall over the precipice, cumming harder than he had thought possible. Cor blindly reached back and grabbed hold of the first thing he could find, which was the man’s ass. He could feel the muscles move beneath his skin with every thrust he made until he stilled, pressing in as deep as he could. The Captain cummed, breathing Cor’s name quietly against his neck and if he had not just climaxed, then, he would have now – he had never felt something like this; it made his insides go all warm and funny. 

Breathing erratically, neither man moved, basking in the feeling of a good fuck and the closeness it brought for a little while longer. Eventually, Titus pulled out of Cor and let go of his leg, pulling him flush against his front, nuzzling his wet strands, placing a small kiss behind his ear. The smaller man hummed satisfied, breathing in deeply and out slowly. The hand around his throat was still holding onto him loosely; it felt nice. A few minutes of silence ticked by before Titus released him and sat up. He pulled off his shirt and wiped himself clean before he started working on Cor. The hitman winced when he removed the tie completely to wipe him off, and, seeing the red lines, the Captain admitted silently that he might have tied it too firmly. He saw Cor rub a hand over his neck and noticed the swollen skin; those marks would show for days – good.

Titus continued to watch as Cor rolled onto his back, scratching along his sternum, meeting his gaze. The hitman did not feel like talking, rather, he moved his hand over to the Captain’s chest, carding through the fine hairs there and up to the back of his neck. The Captain let himself be pulled down into a shy kiss and when they separated, he chuckled lowly, “So docile...” And there was a quick jab landing right between his ribs, winding him a little. “Shut up.” “Says the one who keeps screaming.” Another jab. “I didn’t hear you complaining a few minutes ago.” “I’m not.” Titus hummed, kissing him again, slowly, and Cor purred in to his mouth. “Don’t be angry. I truly meant well!” the hitman said quietly and the other man sighed. “Don’t do it again. Don’t use me again!” Cor nodded acknowledging. “And thank you for cleaning up.” There was a quick smile on the hitman’s lips before they curled downwards. “You’re not getting near another bottle anytime soon. That stuff stinks and it makes you clingy.” The last word made the Captain raise his eyebrow. “Clingy!” he repeated, frowning lightly; not quite believing it. “You started groping me as soon as I pulled you off the sofa.” Titus tilted his head, thoughtfully. “I... don’t have a good reply to that...” he stated surprised. 

They had remained in bed for a little longer, Cor telling him what they had done after they had left the two agents behind. Had told them about the finer details of Luna’s plan and how she knew Lazarus. He also had told him that Ardyn had been the one to kick him out of their safehouse – now, official residence – practically ordering him to make amends. He also had admitted to having watched the Glaive’s headquarters the last few days to see how things were going. Titus had slapped him for that with no actual heat behind it, but still reprimanded him for being difficult. At some point, the Captain’s phone had pinged – a text message from Regis, asking if he were still alive. Sending back a quick ‘fuck off’ he was about to continue where he had left off, when Cor had moved over and into his lap, letting his hands play with the other’s flaccid cock until it started hardening. It had been quick, dirty and painful in the best possible way and they had rubbed one out nicely before the hitman had left for the shower, deciding the Captain needed to eat at least once within 24 hours. Titus had remained in bed, sighing; he was still angry, but at the same time a small part understood the man’s rationale. It was not like he never had pulled such a stunt himself – he was getting soft, it seemed. No point in sulking though; and while Cor was busy, Titus had started cleaning up, removed the dirty sheets and aired the room before he went to have a shower himself. They had had a simple late-night dinner before retiring to the bedroom again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy. :)


	39. Crazy never takes a break

Sunday had been a lazy day: they had slept in, fucked, eaten and fucked some more until their bodies were so overly sensitive that even pissing was painful. By the end of it all, Cor had been sufficiently ‘marked’ as per his own request and even Titus sported a couple of bites and scratches that would be difficult to hide – not that he cared too much about that, though. He also had not cared too much about his neighbour banging against the wall when the hitman had been a notch too loud again; he secretly enjoyed his ability to turn the always controlled man into a screaming and willing mess of raw need. 

Now, Cor was laying on his front again, watching the Captain read his book. He stretched a little and moved his arms under the pillow his head was currently on. Without any conscious effort, Titus’ left moved over and started carding through the hitman’s hair, eliciting a low purr from him. Chuckling, he said, “I’m taking it all back, you’re no dog – you're a big cat.” Cor snarled threateningly, but both knew it did not mean anything right now. “If I were to ask you about the day you went to see Gilgamesh, would you tell me?” And gone was the relaxed and playful atmosphere. The Captain could feel the other man tensing, but he kept his gaze on his book, continuously stroking the man’s soft hair. Cor moved one arm over and closed the man’s book, waiting for the other to look at him. “You told me about your past, it’s only fair if I tell you about it.” “No. Don’t do it because you feel the need to reciprocate. Do it because you want to.”

Frowning, the hitman moved his arm back under the pillow, readjusting his position slightly, but never breaking eye contact. He breathed out slowly, then, “I wanted, no... needed to know if I was ever anything else but his replacement. He said ‘no’. I told him that I cared. Too much, even for him but he was only disappointed... and angry. He demanded to take back the life he had given to me, so... we fought.” Cor sighed deeply. “I can’t be what Regis wants me to be, but I can’t take Gilgamesh’s place either. An assassin without purpose is nothing but a murderer.” The last words, he almost spat with contempt, his ever-persistent scowl darkening. While continuing to card through the other man’s hair, the Captain said, “Hate to burst your bubble, but you’ve always been a murderer. It doesn’t matter the reasoning behind your actions. Normal people will always see you as that, nothing more, nothing less.” He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. “Anyhow, you’ve made yourself a name, so, use it! Don’t waste it on sulking over ‘what ifs’. You only have this one life, make the best out of it. Or will you cower and hide away again?” There was a moment of silence, before the hitman answered: “I refuse.” At that, the Captain hummed. “You better. I hate cowards.” Cor chuckled lowly – he already had gotten that memo. 

By the time Monday came around, Drautos felt well-rested; the first time in months. After their little chat, they had remained silent, simply enjoying the quiet proximity until they had fallen asleep. Right now, the Captain was walking down the corridor to the interrogation cells at the local police department. Feeling a light sense of déjà-vu, he stopped in front of the cell that held one of his former agents. Luche Lazarus was nursing a black eye – apparently, he must have gotten into a fight with other inmates over the weekend, the shiner was still swollen and his eye closed. “Cap’n.” he greeted bored. “What’s up?” The officer unlocked the cell door and let the tall man enter, remaining in close vicinity to react quickly if the need would arise, but far enough not to pry. “I’m going to ask you questions, Lazarus. And I expect the truth in return. Understood?” “Whatever...” Leaning against the bars, the Captain started, “How do you know the Nox-Fleurets?” “School.” “Why did you decide to help her?” “You got her brother killed, duh...!” “What did you expect to gain from this?” “She improved the drug the old git made. Whatcha think, Cap’n?” Drautos crossed his arms in front of his chest, his expression remaining indifferent. “All this for nothing but a temporary power fix? I expected more...” Lazarus shrugged. “And the money.” “Naturally.” “So, you guys put the bugs everywhere, you told the woman where to find Besithia’s body and then what?” “Dunno, what she needed the old man’s body for. But when she called me up to tell me that I could get rid of those two superior assholes I was happy to oblige.” “Why?” “All this family and friends talk is bullshit. Oh no... my father was killed, let’s go after some retarded hitman who kills us off one by one... yeah nope...”

Leaning forward, Lazarus pulled his lips into a disgusting smirk. “I know what you guys did in the basement. You kept a wanted criminal there. What do you think would happen if the Board found out?” Titus tilted his head, cocking a brow. “Go on.” he said, unimpressed. “You get me outta here and I'll keep quiet. Whatcha say Cap’n.” The tall man chuckled amused. “Really?” Stepping closer to the table, the Captain leaned forward, grin turning wolfish. “Please go ahead and tell the Board about whatever you may think happened in the basement. But remember... accidents tend to happen a lot in places like these.” He placed his hands onto the table and invaded the smaller man’s space, voice low. “It is very likely that someone, somehow might accidentally have a slip of tongue and those inmates will hear about you being a good little boy for the Feds. I heard some of the guys here do love virgin-ass. It’s in quite high demand. I suggest you start trading your cigarettes for lube. Now, if you decide you want to tell me something of actual importance, call me.” Giving Lazarus his most dangerous smile, he clapped the man lightly onto his cheek before removing himself from the cell, indicating for the officer to close the door – leaving a more than frightened Luche Lazarus behind. 

The talk with Furia had been more boring than anything. Evidently, the guy had only tagged along for the money and because he had been angry for not having been promoted in the previous year. All Drautos could do was shake his head and leave; there was nothing to gain from that conversation, so he might as well cut it short. The same applied to the other two members of Lazarus’ little team. On his way out, he had called up Regis, giving him a quick update and quenching any worries the older man might have had. On his way back, he popped into an Indian restaurant, getting some take-away for his two idiotic superiors and himself. When he arrived at the office, it was just past noon, and surprisingly quiet. Ostium had reported back for duty after his months-long absence due to his knee injury and also told him that Ulric had called in sick for the day, muttering something about the black-haired agent not being able to sit properly. Regis and Clarus had already been waiting for him when he made it to his small office room, adding a new pile of cases onto his desk. Undeterred, he handed them the white cardboard boxes that contained their food. They had a quick lunch and then focussed on the new cases – the crazy never-ending, apparently. 

“It’s kind of sad to see young people throw away their lives just for revenge and money.” Regis said out of the blue, flicking through the pages of a case involving multiple kidnappings. “I don’t think it’s just youngsters, Reggie. People always want something they can’t have. Even if it’s just the illusion of it.” “That’s true, old friend. We simply have to keep on going, and not lose faith, I guess.” Determined, Regis closed the file. “This week is our first New Year’s party in this place. Let’s make it a memorable one. We already missed out on Christmas celebrations and oh my holy moly chocolate stick...” Regis suddenly jolted out of his seat, the other two men looking at him, slightly concerned. “Clarus...” the man hissed. “... we forgot Cor’s birthday!” It took the other man a moment before he was able to process what his life-long friend had just said. When it finally hit him, he mumbled a slightly hysterical “shit” and the man closed the file he was reading. “But... where is he now? Didn’t he and Ardyn leave? I mean, after everything, they don’t seem to be around?! Not sure if they’d appreciate us showing up at their place...” Regis sighed deeply, his brows furrowing thoughtfully.

He looked at Drautos. “No." Another sigh from his superior followed. “Give them time. They’ll come around.” the Captain added, making a mental note to kick the hitman’s ass when he got back to his apartment. With a scrutinizing gaze, Clarus looked at him. “You sound pretty... hmm... how shall I say? Chilled! I think that’s the word the kids use these days.” The Captain shrugged. “Clarus is right. And you seem in a particularly good mood today...” Focussing on the file in his hands, the Captain did not bother adding anything to the current conversation. “Yes... first he’s all murderous intent, then, he drinks himself under the table and now he’s all happy? Maybe the whiskey did burn away the last of his sanity?” “Or he’s not sober yet?” “He. Is close enough to strangle you!” Drautos rumbled, throwing them a quick glance and both men sniggered. “When you see him, tell him to visit. Or better, give us his phone number.” The Captain sighed, exasperated. “If I had his number, don’t you think I would’ve called and laid into him already for the shit he’s been up to?” Surprised, Regis stared at him with disbelief. “You... don’t have Cor’s number?” “He called once without caller ID. I actually never bothered asking.” he answered truthfully, frowning at that – the thought had truly never occurred to him. “I can’t believe this. You... you should feel ashamed of yourself.” “Stop lecturing me, Regis. It’s not like there was any reason for it. Besides, you could’ve asked for it yourself, so get off that high horse!” Before his boss could say anything else, there was a quiet knock on his door. “Enter.” 

Ostium opened the door and peeked inside. “Hey Captain. Bad timing?” “No. These two were about to leave.” Drautos said, throwing his superiors a warning glare. “What is it?” “Well, someone from the Miami branch called. Said something about calling in a favour. They need a team sent over asap.” The younger agent walked in and handed his Captain a small post-it. “Apparently, the unit chief of the local PD demands a call back today.” “Interesting choice of words... I’ll take care of that.” And with that, lunch break was over. The Captain shamelessly kicked out his superiors and got back to work; he finished reviewing the new files and assigned the teams appropriately before he even bothered calling the unit chief of the Miami PD. When he did, the man on the other end of the line cut straight to the point, providing him with all the information he needed; everything else he promised to send via email. Three hours later, he had called in a meeting with Ostium, Khara and Elshett; the trio was already waiting for him in a meeting room. He closed the door and threw the file onto the table.

“We’ve got two murders, both victims had an unusually low amount of blood in their bodies when found. According to the coroner, the blood loss was not the primary cause of death. It was removed, but then the victims were chopped into pieces, no sedatives used. Whoever did this, likes keeping the blood as a souvenir and has the means to cut people up. The person also knows how to perform a venipuncture; you will see in the pictures that the application is quite well done. We have been approved of using the jet to fly over, Regis wants this case solved and closed yesterday; I quote ‘so everyone can attend the party’.” “Sir, why are we dealing with this? Shouldn’t the BAU handle this?” Drautos nodded. “They should, but most of their guys are busy and since they helped initially with the information on Aldercapt we need to return the favour. Besides, the lines between our responsibilities and those of the BAU and JTTF are still not clear and I don’t expect this to be sorted out anytime soon. Any more questions, no!? Perfect. We will leave in half an hour.” The Captain left the meeting room. 

Within the next hour, the four agents were in the air, on their way to Miami, expected arrival at twenty-two-hundred hours, give or take. The younger agents had started going through the information and started on the Victimology as well as the suspect behaviour, eliminating character traits that were unlikely to be part of the killer’s psyche. By the time they had arrived, unit chief Sanders and some fellow officers had picked them up and escorted them to their hotel. They ate while catching up and then retired for the night. Distantly, Drautos caught himself wondering what the hitman was doing and whether he was still at his apartment – perhaps having the man’s phone number was not such a bad idea after all... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah!! I forgot to upload. I'm so sorry. ... enjoy. :)


	40. Quick and dirty

At oh-eight-hundred hours sharp, the four agents were sitting in a meeting room at Miami PD, providing detailed information on the preliminary profile and the next steps needed to be taken: they needed to look into the lives of the victims and see the crime scenes with their own eyes. Thus, the quartet set out for the first crime scene: Memorial Park Cemtery. 

“I don't understand what people like about going to cemeteries in the middle of the night... that’s creepy.” Khara muttered, rubbing his arms to keep warm. “Agreed, why come out here if you could watch a horror movie instead?” “It’s evident that you two haven’t seen any girls lately.” Elshett said amused, crunching down and inspecting the circle of burned down candles. “Then, please do share your womanly intuition or whatever you call it, with us.” Khara retorted, sticking out his tongue. “Well... a young girl: smart, active, always partaking in all kinds of different social events, a frequent party-goer despite growing up in a sheltered home might be quite curious about the things that she’s not allowed to do. I wager that she came out here for the thrill of something new. Maybe even play out a secret fantasy of hers.” “According to the friend’s statement, they went to local club but lost sight of each other.” Drautos started. “Why wouldn't you look for your best friend in a club in the middle of the night?” The female agent shrugged. “Only when you’re busy getting into someone’s pants.” The Captain nodded. “She was chopped into pieces right here. I am surprised nobody heard her scream. Or saw anything. Cannisters full of blood draw attention... there must be something.” Elshett muttered thoughtfully. “Our suspect needs to be well-trained to subdue his victims. If he gets these women out here and then kills them off, he must be very persuasive.” Drautos commented dryly. “Khara, Ostium. Go and dig deeper into those women’s lives. Elshett, with me." 

While the two young men had left to talk to the victim’s family and friends, Elshett and the Captain went to the other cemetery. Once done, all four agents had reconvened at the PD, closed the door to their break-out room and started working through the new information they had gathered. It took them the rest of the day to put together a suspect profile they could all agree with. Towards the afternoon, they were finally ready to release said profile to the wider team: “The suspect we are looking for is male, Caucasian origin, very likely with very pale skin – suffering from erythropoietic porphyria.” A hand was raised hesitantly and Drautos cocked a brow.

“What’s... what’s poh-phyrijah?” “A blood disorder, causing high sensitivity to the sun, pale skin due to a decreased amount of red blood cells as well as severe chronic pain in chest and abdominal area plus heavy sweating.” When the officers looked at Elshett as if she had declared the sun was blue, she sighed. “Porphyria is also known as Vampirism.” Now, everyone was nodding in understanding. Undeterred, the Captain continued: “Our male suspect is well trained and charismatic. He is paying attention to his appearance, mostly active during the night – we expect him to have a night-time job. He needs the blood of his victims to drink it, at least that’s what he’s believing. He’s not using sedatives because it might ‘ruin’ the taste. Chopping up the bodies is done simply for fun.” One of the officers grimaced and asked, “For fun, sir?” “He drinks the blood and the high it gives him allows him to feel physical pleasure while dismembering his victims.” A couple of whispers rippled through the attending officers and even Sanders looked more than appalled. “So, what, we’re looking for some wannabee dude who likes to play Twilight?” “Not Twilight... more like Queen of the Damned.” Ostium added, wiggling his eyebrows, but turning serious again when he saw Drautos throw him a warning glare.

“We need to check out all fetish clubs – those which do not require registration or entry fees, young ladies don’t have enough money for these things. Our suspect thinks he’s a vampire, not aware that his condition can actually be treated. His expert application of a venipuncture shows that. He knows how to do it, but it’s old-fashioned. The current medical application is done differently, thus, he’s no student or treating physician.” Ostium added quickly. “All victims were new to the fetish scene. He is specifically targeting those, because he can show them something new, entice them to do something they’ve never done before. We also think that our suspect has been killing for a longer period of time. He is travelling across the country, so he does not draw too much attention. Sanders, call up other state PDs and ask for cases with similar MO, it may be likely that they’ll find something.” Drautos ordered calmly and the unit chief nodded once. Letting his gaze roam over the full room of people, the tall Captain continued: “Check in on motels and everywhere you don’t have to pay with card for temporary residence. If we’re lucky, he’s still out there, looking for another victim before moving state again. Meanwhile, we’re looking into further locations that may be considered hunting grounds. Any questions?” Drautos waited a few moments for the police officers to talk among their own, but when nobody said anything, he barked out a “dismissed” and, to everyone’s surprise, all officers hurried away. 

After their meeting, the four agents had left the precinct to get an early dinner; they knew they would have to stay up all night long just to find out which clubs would fit the bill. Of course, Miami had to have the largest number of fetish clubs possible, so, the agents were forced spend the rest of their evening browsing through all kinds of websites and potential locations. Come morning, they had filtered down to six locations. Before breakfast, everyone caught up on their regular hygiene and changed into a fresh set of clothes. By oh-nine-hundred hours, they were back at the PD, playing catch-up with the local officers who were more than delighted to not have to kick in every single club door in their beautiful county. Together, they worked out a game plan for the night: they would have six teams; one for each location. Each team would send in a handful of their female officers available as bait, three male agents would remain in close distance and a few more waiting outside. 

Once everything was set up, all they needed to do was wait. Khara, Elshett and Drautos had positioned themselves into different corners of the club they were in, watching the female officers patiently, all the while keeping their surroundings in view and trying to not be involved into some very questionable conversations. Three hours later and they were all bored to death and secretly hoping for their suspect to strike tonight. Elshett had already scared away a couple of young men and was already close to killing somebody, Khara was mostly flattered by the attention but always politely declined and Drautos... well, if looks could kill, the man would have been buried under dead bodies already; the Captain was as inconspicuous as a tomato in a green-leaf salad but everyone seemed to write it off as ‘hard to get’. 

At last, sometime towards the early evening, when their asses hurt from sitting too much, there was some commotion: some guy in a baroque-esque outfit approached one of their decoys. After a short back and forth, the man moved on and the agents could hear a quiet “stand down” through the comm. Drautos rolled his eyes and sighed. Leaning back against the wall, the Captain let his gaze wander across the room: there were multiple couples here and there making out, some even openly fondling each other. Others were simply just talking over a glass of something. On one large sofa he could see a woman lounge comfortably on the pillows and the man was on the ground, leash around his neck, arms tied behind his back, eating from a dog bowl. The woman returned his gaze, raising her glass lightly but he just downright ignored her. He let his gaze wander until he could hear Elshett’s voice through the comm: “Potential suspect entered, wearing a yellow bow tie.” Thank fucking finally – hopefully this was the guy. Every agent and officer got ready, waiting, watching discreetly. They had been right: the guy was tall, burly, his hair tied back loosely, skin pale as death itself, wearing some old-fashioned clothes that could be associated with some vampire-movies out there. It did not take too long until the man engaged into a random chat with one of their decoys. The woman played her role well and when they made to leave together, the agents removed themselves silently to follow behind. 

From there onwards, things went relatively smoothly. They followed the two to a close-by cemetery and when the man got a little too handsy they stepped in. The guy even had the decency to run away, but they were on him in no time, Elshett even punched him a little too hard, so that he lost a tooth. By the end of the day, they had put the last pieces into the puzzle: The man truly did suffer from porphyria and got a high from drinking blood. Since he worked at a local gym, he had the means to bulk up during the late-night shifts. Nobody ever questioned him on these because nobody wanted to do the night-shifts anyway; the perfect cover. He also had a butcher knife with him, always preparing the cemetery before commencing his ‘hunt’. Overall, it was an easy case compared to what they had to deal with the last couple of months – not that anyone was complaining. 

When they arrived back at their headquarters it was already Thursday, the large clock in the reception area blinking a bright red ‘04:28’. They dropped off their stuff and then, everyone left for their respective homes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy. :)


	41. Rest is important

Three hours was definitely not enough sleep, for any of them; so, when the four agents showed up at the office at oh-eight-hundred hours sharp, they did not look all too happy or awake and when Clarus saw them stumble in one by one, he told each of them to go back home – the briefing and their reports could wait for a few days. So, the four agents did as  ordered  and left again. 

It had not been a surprise to find his apartment vacated when he had returned from Miami. It only meant that he did not have to care about anything and could simply fall into the sheets and sleep. And Titus did the exact same thing now after having been kicked out of headquarters an hour ago. Good thing he rarely ironed his work clothes, the material making it easy to smooth out any crinkles – not that he would have cared anyway. He was out in no time. 

He did not sleep long though, his inner clock not allowing him to do so at a time at which he should actually be awake and working. So, the Captain found himself tossing and turning in his bed more frequently than he would have liked. Annoyed, he took a glance at his phone’s clock, telling him that it was barely past ten-hundred hours. Growling displeased, he sat up, contemplating. Well... they had done as they were told: solve a case in record-time to get back before the unit’s New Year’s Party, which was tonight, and he had slept a little more. Still a little slow on the uptake, he tried to wrap his brain around something he could occupy himself with until tonight – not that he particularly wanted to go to that damn party, but he knew if he did not show, certain people would drag him there by his ears. Distantly, he remembered the conversation he had had with Clarus and Regis the day they had left. He could do that, but was it the smartest idea? Probably not. Well... what could possibly happen if he did... 

Titus  Drautos was not a man to cower in fear, but now, that he was standing in front of the door, he was questioning his life choices a little. Glaring at the wooden obstacle in his path, he wondered not for the first time, why he even bothered. Technically, he knew the answer, but he refused to acknowledge it yet. Logically, he also knew it was not the smartest move, but he had never claimed to be smart, now, had he? His focus was pulled back to the here and now when the door in front of him opened, without him ever having knocked. “You know... ringing would work better than glaring. Doors don’t usually get scared.” the maroon-haired hitman said, throwing him an amused look and stepped out of the way to let the Captain in. “He’s in the training hall.” Ardyn closed the door, giving him a quick once-over. “You could have at least brought flowers if you’re taking him out to prom.” Questionable life choices, indeed! Titus grunted, rolled his eyes at the other man’s pert remark and made his way over to said training hall. Last time he had been here, the floor was covered in blood, now, there was nothing that betrayed what had happened. 

When he saw Cor move around, gaze focussed on one particular point, he leaned against the wall and waited patiently; watching. The hitman moved fluently with his bokken, struck with deadly precision and always closed his guard swiftly afterwards. No movement was wasted. He effortlessly circled around the modified Mu Ren Zhuang and wood clashed with wood, the sound echoing through the hall. Glaring down the wooden dummy, Cor relaxed and stepped away. He sat down in seiza, placed the bokken in front of him, wiped the sweat out of his eyes and closed them; focussing on his erratic breathing. After a few long minutes, he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before opening his eyes and getting back up. “What are you doing here?” came the calm question from the hitman as he walked over to the weapons rack, not bothered by the Captain’s watchful gaze. “Clarus kicked the team and I out of the office. And there are some things I wanted to talk to you about.” the tall man replied with a shrug and saw the hitman nod. Once Cor was done with the clean-up, he walked over and stopped momentarily in front of Titus, frowning, but not saying anything. Instead, he jerked his head towards the stairs and walked out of the hall, the Captain following suit. 

Cor’s room was scarcely furnished, looking austere and spartan – no personal items whatsoever. There was a large wardrobe, a small bed and a table plus stool that fit right underneath. On said table he could see a reloading press, powder dispenser and other equipment needed to make bullets. Cor disappeared into the adjacent bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar. “Take a seat and give me five.” Titus could hear the other man say and then, the hiss of the shower was to be heard. Sitting down was a great idea, but it was not like there was anything to sit on – the little stool looked very much like it would break at the mere thought of holding up his weight and he felt the bed was a little presumptuous. Sighing, the Captain took off his leather jacket and folded it up, sitting down at the far end of the bed – and damn that mattress was soft, he bounced once, amazed by feel of it. Now, he knew why there was nothing else to sit on. His gaze wandered back to the items on the table. Titus was impressed. He was not sure how Regis had pulled it off, but whatever magic he had used to keep the house and its contents under wraps, was incredibly amazing. Nobody aside from the Glaive knew what really had happened here and the little information they had shared was not quite accurate, to say it in a nice way. 

The shower stopped and a long moment later, Cor emerged from the bathroom again, towel around his hips. When he saw Titus sitting at the end of the bed, he moved to sit at the top, leaning against the pillow and the wall, crossing his ankles lazily. Without turning around, the Captain spoke, “Not sure how Regis kept your things in here without anyone doing anything about it, but I’d say he did a pretty neat job. You better thank him for this blatant abuse of power.” He could hear the hitman clear his throat. “I’m thankful for what he did. It would have been a chore to get new gear. I also know that Ardyn did check the database to see if they had registered our fingerprints; he took care of that while I was... preoccupied.” When Titus did turn around, the hitman locked onto his pale blue eyes at once. “I know that we have caused much trouble. And I don’t know how to reconcile this. I can’t apologize for my actions, because I meant them at the time.” The Captain moved one leg up and leaned onto his right hand to make himself more comfortable, not breaking eye contact. “You could start with coming to that damn New Year’s Party, for starters. They asked for you.” Cor nodded. “Yes, Ardyn mentioned something along those lines.” When he saw the taller man raise a questioning eyebrow, he elaborated: “Nyx Ulric told him.” Of course, that made sense. Why had he not thought about that himself, those two were getting along rather splendidly in their own weird way. 

“Does that mean you’re coming tonight?” “I’d rather not.” the hitman replied dryly. “I wouldn’t know what to do there.” Titus huffed lightly. “You could get to know them? Not as ‘the Immortal’ but as Cor Leonis. Besides...” The taller man made a small pause before continuing, choosing his words more carefully. “The Glaive are a packaged deal; you will meet the family sooner or later. If you decide you want to continue seeing me.” The last part sounded like it was a question, but Cor was not sure. “You consider them family?” “Unfortunately. But I’ll deny ever having said that should anyone ask.” The hitman held the Captain’s gaze for a moment longer before averting his eyes, staring at some imaginative point; frowning about something. When his gaze returned to the other man, the frown only deepened. “I’d like to. Keep seeing you.” “You don't sound convinced.” Cor shook his head. “There’s still a small part that tells me it's wrong.” he admitted, earning himself an analysing stare. 

A moment later, Titus indicated him to come closer, but the hitman just cocked a brow. “I am not going to ruin your sheets with my boots, so, come here.” Fair point. Thus, Cor moved forward, pulled his legs back until he was on his knees, propped up on his arms. The Captain’s left hand came up and grabbed him roughly at his goatee, pulling him forward. “Let’s see if we can’t make that part shut up, hm?” he said, sliding his thumb over Cor’s bottom lip before pushing it inside his mouth. When he felt the hitman’s tongue lick over it, Titus pulled him closer, adding his own tongue to the mix. With a low rumble, Cor pulled the other’s hand down and closed the remaining distance, enjoying the feeling of tongue against tongue. They kissed long and deeply, not like their usual ferocious and fervent sloppy back and forth, so, when they separated, Cor regarded Titus with another frown. “You’re... what’s wrong?” “Tired.” the Captain said quietly, his mouth faster than his brain. “How much sleep did you get since you’ve returned?” “Three... four hours, plus minus.” 

Wordlessly, Cor removed himself from the bed and crouched down, starting to undo the other man’s brown military-issued combat boots. That did earn him a confused look. “What are you doing?” “You need sleep.” came the crisp reply and the hitman pulled Titus’ boots off. “Tried that, didn’t work. Just leave it.” Next came his socks, but once Cor started on the man’s belt, a strong hand wrapped around his wrist, bringing them to a halt. “Get out of these and into bed.” the hitman snarled. Gruffly, Titus retorted with a snarky “leave it” but received only another snarl that led to both men starting a stubborn staring-contest. After a minute of exchanged death glares, Cor let go of the other man’s belt. As soon as he felt Titus’ hand loosen around his wrist, though, he moved; quickly grabbing the man’s left hand, stepping around him and locking his arm behind the Captain’s back. “You fuckin’ little shit...” Titus bit out between gritted teeth, angry for having fallen for this trick. He could feel the man’s breath ghosting over his ear when he spoke, amusement laced in his voice: “Rest is important. Otherwise, your performance falters. Now, move up the bed and. Lay. Down!” Cor put a little more force behind his hold and the Captain grunted in pain, starting to awkwardly move as he had been told. When he was sprawled out on his front and his face hit the pillow, he growled loudly. “You’ll pay for this, Leonis!” Unceremoniously, the hitman sat down on Titus' ass while keeping his hold on the other’s arm. “We’ll see about that. Now, I’ll let go and you’ll relax.” “Bite me!” Titus had not meant it literally, so, when he felt the hitman bite his neck for real, he let out a surprised gasp. 

The next thing the Captain felt was his arm being released and two strong hands started kneading into his trapezius and fuck him if that did not hurt. “Relax.” Cor said, when he heard Titus groan in pain. “You damn bastard...” Not one to give up that easily, the Captain brought his arms close to his sides and pushed up into a high plank, taking the hitman with him. “Relaxing means to not strain your muscles further, Titus.” Cor explained, amusement now clear in his voice. He trailed his hands lower over the latissimus dorsi to the man’s abdominal obliques. The result he obtained was unexpected but not unwelcome:  the Captain shuddered and slumped down, hiding his face in the pillow – and was that a muffled squeal? Cor pressed his fingers into the muscle again and he could feel the man shiver and squeal once more. 

There was utter disbelieve in his voice when he asked, “Are you ticklish?” He could see the other man stubbornly shake his head. Cor narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure?” And with that, the hitman pressed his fingers further into Titus’ obliques and the man practically squirmed beneath him, trying to choke down the little sounds escaping his throat. Mercilessly, Cor kept going, he even rucked up the shirt a little to feel the man's warm skin underneath. Eventually, the Captain turned his head to look at the hitman, face red from trying not to laugh. “Fuck, yes, I am. Will you stop now?” Cor took his sweet time to contemplate while continuing to run his fingers over the man’s sides. Eventually, he leaned down, whispering into Titus’ ear: “Only if you behave.” The meaning of the words used was not lost to either man and the Captain relented with an angry but affirming grunt. At once, Cor’s ministrations ceased and his fingers went back to massaging the larger muscles on the man’s back. “Bastard.” “Yes. Now, relax.” With the tension mostly gone, it was not that painful anymore and eventually, the controlled press of fingers and knuckles into his pressure points lulled him into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy. :)


	42. New Year's Party

When he woke, it was with a jolt. He felt the aftershocks of the nightmare... no, memory... run through his body and he sat up, running a hand through his hair. Titus reached for the nightstand to grab his phone but when his hand grabbed at air, he frowned. It took him a second to remember where he actually was. Throwing his legs out of bed, he stood and walked over to where the door should be, stumbling over something mid-way and almost kissing the wall. Muttering a few curses, he let his hand wander across the wallpaper until he found the light switch. The light burned at first, but once he was able to see, he was quickly to identify the obstacle he had stumbled over: his own damn boots. He put socks and boots on and snatched his phone out of the jacket that was neatly hung up onto the doorknob of the wardrobe. He frowned when the screen flashed him a bright ‘18:39’. Apparently, he had slept through the remainder of the day; impressive. Pocketing his phone, Titus left the room and went down the stairs only to find the house quiet. It had not occurred to him sooner, but the mansion was quite spacious in general, making it feel too overwhelming with only two people living here. He walked past a couple of rooms and wondered if they were ever used. When he stumbled again, he growled out a set of curses, glaring angrily at the rolled-up carpet. Only then did he pay attention to the dimly lit hatchway in the floor.

Frowning, he crouched down – the whole thing was very well built out, and if the latch was put into place properly, nobody would notice that it was a door. No surprise that the reports had not mentioned any additional rooms beneath the house aside from the regular cellar. Curiosity piqued, he descended the steps. Reaching the end of the steps, he found Cor dressed in black keikogi bottoms and a white shirt, sitting in seiza underneath one single lightbulb, cleaning away on some chains. “Have you rested well?” the hitman asked, not looking up from what he was doing. “Yes. I guess I needed it more than I thought. What’s this place?” “Never underestimate fatigue, you should know what’ll happen if you do.” Cor put the chains down and stood. “This is where we receive punishment. The equipment needs to be maintained to remain functional.” After a moment, he added, “Even if it isn’t required any longer.” At that, Titus hummed. “Old habits die hard.” “Yes.” With a face of indifference, Cor walked back to where the Captain was standing, looking at him for a moment. “You look better now.” They ascended the stairs and Cor moved the latch back into place, while Titus rolled the carpet back over it. “Ardyn left to meet Nyx. He has taken a liking to your agent.” “Noticed. These two promise trouble and I am not sure who will die first, them or I.” the Captain said and heard the hitman chuckle lightly. “Good thing, that I have taken a liking to you, then; this way you don’t have to fight them off by yourself.” he stated matter-of-factly, but there was a light teasing undertone to be heard. “Is that assassin-speech for ‘I’m coming to the stupid party’?” “Yes.” With that, Cor walked past the taller man and back up the stairs into his room. A few minutes later, he returned, dressed in black jeans and two layers of shirts, one black and the top one light-grey. On his arm, he had two jackets folded over: Titus’ and his own.

Five minutes later, they were on their way to the Glaive’s headquarters, unaware of the watchful gaze that lurked in the shadows... 

It took them over an hour to get to the office, with traffic being a bitch. They had chatted a little, but remained silent throughout most of the ride. It was a comfortable, casual silence both enjoyed. The party was already going when they stepped through the entrance doors, the noise assaulting their ears immediately and the warmth preferred over the cold outside – at least for Cor. Titus had made a little fun of him about it; that and the ridiculous number of layers he seemed to be wearing all the time. The hitman had elected to simply ignore the Captain and not reply to any of his stupid comments knowing full well the other just wanted to get a rise out of him. 

Some of the Glaives had given them weird looks again, but at this point, neither man paid attention to it any longer; it was not the first and certainly would not be the last time. They found Regis first, or rather, the man saw them first and raced over quickly, despite his bad knee. “Titus... Cor...” hugging the hitman, the older man sighed satisfied. “It’s good to see you. Glad you could make it, especially you.” Stiffly, Cor endured the hug until Regis finally let go, his cheeks already a little flushed – how much had that man been drinking to be tipsy already? Titus’ boss took him by his hand and pulled him away from the Captain. “Come, say ‘hi’ to the others. Everyone’s already having a lot of fun.” With surprising strength, Cor was dragged hell-knows-where, leaving a chuckling Titus behind; that bastard did not even bother helping him, how dare he?! 

Whereas Cor was dragged off to Clarus, Monica, Gladiolus and Ignis, Titus was pulled over by Pelna to talk to his fellow agents. That was also the place where he found the maroon-haired hitman, with a quite chirpy Nyx Ulric in his lap. Who, of course, could not keep his damn mouth shut. “Captain, you look like you crawled out of bed before coming here, with all those crumpled clothes. Did you not sleep well?” “And here I thought my brother’s bed would be most comfortable!” Ardyn added. That earned the Captain a round of ‘oooh-s’ but everyone shut up as soon as he threw his agents a deadly glare. Well... all but one. “How come he gets to stay over and I don’t?” “That’s because your Captain is a very scary man, trust me when I say that. And something tells me, if I am not careful, nobody will ever find my body... if you get what I’m saying. So yeah, he can visit even if it means to stare at the door for seven and a half minutes in the hopes of setting it on fire.” That earned him some giggles. Sighing, Titus yielded to his fate, at least on one night of the year the Glaives were allowed to make fun of him. 

Evening turned into late night and everyone ate and drank until they were merry. Everything went smoothly except for one disastrous little hick-up: the moment Libertus had seen Cor he had marched over and socked the man square in the jaw. What made the situation even more awkward was the fact that Libertus’ punch had all his strength behind it, but the hitman only turned his head and took one step backwards, looking very unimpressed. Undeterred, the agent had yelled at the hitman and openly blamed him for Crowe’s death before Regis or Titus could interfere. After all, not everyone knew about the events that had truly played out over the past months, so they still needed to be a little careful. Fortunately for them, Nyx and Ardyn took over and distracted everyone by pulling their attention to a very dangerously looking glass-tower of Champaign flutes that shattered into a large pile of shards after having some small firecrackers explode around it. Most of the people had forgotten about the little interruption immediately while the more attentive ones – those who had actually been involved in the whole affair – disappeared into another room to calm Libertus down.

It had not really worked, especially when Cor had explained to the agent that he would not apologise for his actions, but that he regretted that his best friend died in the process. Titus and Clarus had to intervene to keep Libertus off the hitman after he exploded into the other man’s face about being so cold-hearted and not be deserving of anything but a quick death; that he would never be one of them, no matter how hard he tried. When the hitman admitted that Libertus was right about all those things, it had winded the agent, literally and metaphorically. He even admitted to never having felt a thing for any of his targets, knowing that he would end up in a ditch sooner or later as well without anyone caring. So, he did not mind Libertus calling him names or blaming him because he knew it was the truth. The fact that Cor had said it in such a calm voice had, frankly, shocked everyone, and when he left the office, no one followed him. 

It was 30 minutes to midnight and Cor was situated in the nearby park, watching the few fireworks that already went off. He had never liked the smell that came with it, but the lightshow was always pleasant. He had made himself comfortable on the hard ground, the cold snow biting into his skin, soaking through his jeans. He was not sure what made him come here instead of going back to the safehouse – no, that was not true, he knew and he could hope; no matter how traitorous that thought was. 

“I have to demand your phone number if you keep disappearing on me like that.” Titus said from behind him. “You don’t have it?” “You show with no caller ID.” “Oh.” Cor had forgotten about that; he shrugged and looked up, throwing the other man an apologetic look as he appeared next to him. When Titus crouched down, he draped his heavy leather jacket over the hitman’s shoulders. It earned him a confused scowl – the man could not be serious? It was freezing and he was running around in only a shirt! “They used to put us into ice-water for hours on end and called it training. This feels more like autumn, really.” Titus elaborated and the smaller man nodded in disbelief. “I know. It’s weird as fuck. The others always keep reminding me of it. Feel free to join them.” There was a moment of silence that stretched into a minute, then two.

“Libertus was out of line.” “No. He wasn’t. He was honest and it was accurate.” “Perhaps so. Yet, he spoke out of line.” At that, Cor frowned. “What makes you think that way?” “Firstly, he’s not in a relationship with you. Secondly, he missed out on the finer details of what’s been going on. Hence, it was not his place.” Most of that explanation went over the hitman’s head, his brain still trying to wrap itself around the little word ‘relationship’ the other had used. When he did not reply, the Captain called him out and he jerked his head a little. “You used the word ‘relationship’.” His voice sounded shier than he had intended. Titus shrugged, looking at nothing in particular. “I’d like to think we are in one.” “But doesn’t that involve emo... oh.” Cor cut off mid-sentence, connecting the dots in his head. He could have slapped himself for being so ignorant. His frown eased out a little when he saw the other man look at him, waiting – ever so patiently. “I like that.” “Good.” Silence settled around them once more until Cor exhaled long and slowly. “You sure you don’t wanna go inside?” “I’d like to stay here for a little longer. The cold is distracting.”

Titus let out an amused snort. “If you want distraction, I can give you one that doesn’t give you hypothermia.” he said, brushing his lips against the hitman’s temple. “Don’t even think about it. I don’t want to be watched again.” Cor said, pushing the Captain’s chest away – the man really was warm, unlike him. And Titus must have noticed that too, as one hand came up and covered his own, holding it tight against the warm chest. “You’re cold.” “’s fine.” “I could warm you up.” “No.” When Cor could feel the other’s warm breath ghost over his neck, it took him a lot of self-restraint to not lean into it. “You sure?” That mouth was dangerously close to his ear now and he would loathe to admit that it made him feel warmer already. And then, he noticed it. Turning his head, Cor sniffed the air between them. “You didn’t drink tonight?” “You told me to stay away. So, I’m staying away.” Titus replied, ghosting his lips over the other’s. It was simple thing, really, but he had never expected the other to actually listen to him. And if that did not make him feel a lot of different things, then, he did not know what would. When he froze mid-movement, the Captain called him out: “Cor?” The hitman shifted and leaned into the taller man. “Touch me, fuck me. Do whatever you want, but do it quick.” he snarled demandingly and crushed their lips together. 

With a primal growl, Cor was pushed back into the ground, continued being kissed heatedly by the Captain. Once he could feel Titus move between his legs, he pulled them up and around the other’s waist, dragging him even closer. When they broke apart, the taller man moved on to biting the skin around his jugular. Meanwhile, Cor was trying to open Titus’ belt, but failed miserably when warm hands rucked his shirts up a little and he could feel the cold of the ground. It made him arch against the sturdy frame above him and he groaned at the feeling. A second later, Titus’ hand was on his belt and unbuckled it before taking care of his own. Seeing that his hands were practically useless, Cor decided to move one to the Captain’s back and the other into the man’s hair, pulling him further into the crook of his neck. Somehow, Titus managed to free their cocks and they both groaned at the sensation of too much heat and too much cold. “Titus...” the hitman managed to groan before the other’s rough hand grabbed them both tight and squeezed so hard it hurt.

“More?” “Yes...” The pain on his neck was nothing to the vice-like grip around his cock and Cor fought the tears in his eyes. He bucked up, but nothing was moving, rather, it felt like if he did, he would rip off his own cock in the process. Instead, he grabbed hold of his shirts and pulled them up as much as he could to reveal all of his torso, the cold air hardening his nipples further, earning a feral growl from the Captain as he moved from neck to chest, taking one of the small buds between his teeth. “Make us cum. All over me.” With that, Titus started to move his hand. The pace was brutal and fast, just like the first time they had been like this, even more so and Cor could not help it but cry out with every downwards stroke – it burned and everything felt so tight and painful and good and then... nothing. The pressure was gone, the friction, the hand. The hitman wanted to snarl but was silenced at once when the Captain’s tongue invaded his mouth demandingly. And then Cor yelped, the sound muffled. Titus had grabbed a handful of snow before resuming his hold around their cocks and pumping them even harder, the melting snow adding some lubrication. The sensation was incredible and all the hitman could do was moan and writhe under the Captain’s touch. When they cummed, it was with their mouths sealed together, tongues clashing and their groans silenced. For a moment longer, neither man moved. They continued to kiss until the frantic movement ebbed out into something more passionate. 

Bringing their breathing back under control, they separated so they could look at one another. Noticing the other’s teary eyes, Titus nuzzled Cor’s temple softly. “Was it too much?” “No. No... it was just right.” “Okay. Then let me clean you up, so we can head back, yeah?” “Yes.” Titus moved down and started lapping up the cum on Cor’s stomach and chest, making the hitman purr appreciatively. 

Once the Captain was done, they made themselves presentable again and walked back. Cor winced with every other step before he admitted, with a not-so-faint blush, that his cock did hurt a little. At that, the Captain just laughed amused, earning himself a killer glare from the hitman. They arrived just on time on the rooftop of the Glaive’s office building when the clock struck midnight. The agents set off the fireworks and they watched the dark sky light up in the most amazing colours. Feeling the taller man’s presence behind him, he leaned backwards, just enough to feel the other’s body heat – the man was indeed like a furnace and with his ass being all cold thanks to him sitting in the snow, it actually felt nice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> busy busy busy... work, training... but enjoy. :)


	43. Pain

They had stayed a little longer and Cor had made true of his word and awkwardly thanked Regis for keeping their safehouse as it was. He had also given the man his phone number, should he ever need help – he had a debt to repay and he was adamant about making it even. The older man had been very happy about that and beamed at him like a child in a candy store, sending him pictures already – it did earn him a frown from Clarus, though. Regis’ smile had turned a little cheeky, however, when he had pulled the hitman away from the others, so he and Clarus could speak to him in private; the hitman becoming a little suspicious. They had given him a small envelope and called it a ‘belated birthday present’. Cor had simply stared at them unimpressed until they elaborated. When he opened the envelope, he found an old photograph inside; a picture of five young men, recognizing himself as one of them, another looked very similar to Gladiolus – it must have been Clarus. They had told him it had been the last picture taken before he had been taken by Gilgamesh.

Cor had felt very uncomfortable about it, remembering something his mentor had told him months back, yet, he quietly thanked them around the lump in his throat. Clarus had squeezed his shoulder with a soft smile on his lips and when they returned to the others, started making fun of the large mark on his throat, sniggering together with Regis about him having enjoyed some quality time with their Captain. The hitman had growled at them threateningly, but it did not have the desired effect due to the deep blush he was sporting. And it did nothing to loosen that lump he still felt whenever he swallowed. 

When the number of attendees started to decrease, the Captain had pulled him aside and asked if he wanted to leave, seeing that he had become increasingly quiet with time; the hitman had simply nodded. They had left and headed for Titus’ apartment after Cor had expressed his disagreement to be dropped off at the safehouse – he refused calling it ‘home’ because it was not. The drive had been quiet with Cor continuously staring at the envelope with an indecipherable expression that had Titus frown, but he did not say anything. Once they had reached the Captain’s apartment, they had wordlessly gotten themselves ready for bed; one after the other finishing up in the bathroom.

They had been in bed for 20 minutes now, both men laying on their side, backs turned to each other; their quiet breathing the only thing that could be heard. Neither man was really sleeping; not for the lack of trying, though. The first thing Titus felt was the bed to dip down before an arm snaked around him to brush cold fingers over his stomach. The next were soft lips pressing lightly against his shoulder blade. “Cor?” he asked but the hitman remained quiet, instead, he pressed himself tightly against the Captain’s solid frame. Cor’s hand trailed up the man’s front until he reached his left pectoral, squeezing the thick muscle while his thumb teasingly rubbed over the nipple. “Cor...” Titus rasped out. “Talk to me.” Again, no response. Rather, the hitman shifted and rolled the Captain onto his back, clambering over him. With the moon having moved past its zenith, there was almost no light shining through, hence, they were only able to see outlines in the dark, having mostly to rely on touch alone. Titus could feel the smaller man’s hands on him, moving over his chest, digging his nails into his pectorals, scratching along his skin, steadily trailing downwards. He could feel a hand grab his flaccid cock through his boxers, squeezing and stroking before the waistband was pulled down and Cor’s wet heat engulfed him.

The hitman’s unexpected eagerness forced a surprised groan out of the Captain. Cor’s movements were sloppy and erratic, but eager; proof of his inexperience, but exactly that made Titus’ cock swell in no time within its warm confines. “Cor...!” He found the hitman’s head and took hold of the short strands, pulling at them. With an angry growl, Cor grabbed the unwanted hand by the wrist and almost yanked it out of his hair; a clear warning to the Captain that the hitman did not want to be touched. A few bobs of his head later and Cor released Titus’ erect cock. He pulled the towel off and propped himself up onto his knees. One hand grabbed the other's hard length and with the other, the hitman pulled his ass cheeks apart, aligning them before ruthlessly pushing down. It was one hard and painful shove, but the Captain was sheathed within him to the hilt in one go. It made both men groan loudly, it felt all too painful, too tight, too much, and yet, too little. Not waiting to get used to the girth that had just torn him open, Cor started moving, a painful sob escaping his throat. Titus groaned hoarsely at the feeling and fought the urge to grab onto the man’s hips. Instead, he gripped the sheets tightly and let the hitman ride him hard and fast – if that was what he wanted, then, he could have it. 

Titus heard the man above him grunt in pain, but the man did nothing to slow himself down. When Cor snarled and pressed his hands back onto the Captain’s chest, it became evident that whatever the hitman was doing, did not have the desired effect. The next sound the other let loose was all levels of angry, the sharp up and down movement that followed, told Titus that the hitman was simply trying to hurt himself with his actions, rather than getting pleasure from it. “Cor!” the Captain tried one last time before he let his patience snap. He planted his legs firmly onto the mattress before lifting his hips up and throwing Cor off. The man snarled again but did not get very far when Titus grabbed his thighs, pulled them apart and buried himself inside him once more – how he managed that in the dark, he did not question. The force behind that thrust made the other cry out.

The Captain growled loudly before pulling the hitman’s legs up, so that his ass was in his lap. He strengthened his hold around Cor’s strong thighs, forced them even further apart and then, started to pull the man’s body towards him pounding into it. It left Cor hissing and grunting in pain as his whole body was rocked back and forth. Titus grunted before he shifted subtly, forcing Cor to arch his back more and, suddenly, the Captain reached deeper inside him. It had him choke out a long whine – being filled and stretched so much just hurt. Cor released a guttural sound when Titus unexpectedly brushed against that one spot within; he did not want it yet and he forced his muscles to tighten around the Captain’s cock. Not that it was difficult, he had not been relaxed in the first place. However, the man slowed for a moment before picking up the pace again – he had understood the message. 

Titus kept thrusting into the hitman’s body, trying not to hit the man’s prostate. And damn it, if that was not a difficult task. His cock started hurting from the force, the pace was too fast and the blood did nothing to soothe the burning sensation. If this was what the man wanted, though, he would give it to him. He kept on going, his grip painfully hardy around those lithe legs, nails digging into the skin, the muscles in his arms starting to burn: his sole objective was to drive himself impossibly deeper than he already was. He did not know for how long they kept going like that, but when he felt the hitman’s fingertips against his sweaty skin, he understood.

He pulled Cor’s legs onto his shoulders, leaned in and sought out the hitman's lips, locking them in a bruising kiss. He shifted slightly and aimed for the prostate. Cor let out a long muffled grown and moved his hand around to grab the taller man’s ass cheek. The other hand wrapped itself tightly around his own cock, stroking it in the same insane pace Titus had set. It took surprisingly little effort from there on to make them cum. Cor released with a painful sound onto his stomach, clamping down like a vice around the Captain who continued thrusting a few more times before he too cummed, pressing in as deep as he could. 

They remained connected until their erratic breathing started to slow down, kissing and biting at each other's lips. When Titus made to pull out, however, Cor locked his legs around the man’s hips and pushed him back inside. “Don’t. Please.” The hitman’s voice was barely a whisper that could be heard over their breathing. “Talk to me, Cor.” the taller man demanded calmly against Cor’s neck. The silence stretched into minutes and he had already started accepting that the hitman would not tell him anything, when he heard him say, “It’s too much. I needed it to stop.” Yeah... that was as vague as it could possibly be. Carefully, the Captain asked, “What’s too much?” “Everything. That picture. I can’t...” Cor's breathing picked up again, coming in ragged huffs. “It hurts, it’s not meant to hurt. But it’s better than the rest. The dead don’t care.” It was evident that the hitman was talking himself into some kind of panic; nothing he said made actual sense and Titus had a hard time understanding what the other was trying to tell him. What he did understand though, was, that the man needed to calm down.

“Cor. Calm down.” he said, trying to sound as calm as he could be. “If it hurts, why did you do it?” “Because it makes it stop. Makes it all go away. It’s empty. It’s good. So good.” He could feel Cor tighten his grip around him. And then, it clicked – his brain had finally caught up on what was going on. “Was it something at the party? A picture... in the envelope, perhaps?” he probed. “Yes.” “It made you feel? And you didn’t know what to do about it?” “Yes.” Titus exhaled slowly. “So, you wanted to hurt yourself?” “Yes.” Cor replied, his mouth had somehow found its way to his ear and the Captain could hear the light shiver accompanying the man’s voice. “It’s two out of four. The others were already taken care of. Only two targets... you know. You understand, don’t you?” No, he did not, or did he? “Regis and Clarus?” “Yes.” “The other people on that picture?” he made an educated guess and seemed to have hit bullseye. “Yes.” "Cor...” Titus started, “Calm down. Whatever you think happened probably didn’t.” he said, trying to appeal to the logical part in the hitman. “If someone Regis and Clarus knew died, they would have said something, don’t you think? There would be proof. A signature.” “Yes.” “We’ll call them up later, okay? So, we can talk to them. But now, I need you to calm down: breathe – in for five, out for five.” And the hitman did as he was told. Titus turned his head to ghost his lips over the man’s jaw. “Now, calm down.” he repeated quietly – exuding utter patience. Cor nodded, but then, he remembered the other could barely see him, so, he breathed a quiet “yes” and tightened his grip around the other’s shoulders even more. 

If Titus was too heavy, the hitman did not utter a word of complaint, so, they remained as they were until the Captain felt himself dozing off. “Cor. Let me clean us up.” he said drowsy, carefully peeling himself out of the man's embrace... who had already fallen asleep judging by the slow breathing and how limp his body was. So much for that – well, he would not complain, that was for sure! Blindly, Titus fumbled for the towel he knew was somewhere and once he found it, he pulled out slowly and started cleaning them both up – which was not an easy feat in the pitch black of the room. And damn it, was he glad the other did not wake. Once done, he removed his soiled boxers, laid down and pulled the sleeping hitman into his arms. 

He woke to the feel of something laying on top of him. Opening his eyes slowly and blinking a few times, his bedroom came into focus. First the ceiling, then his surroundings and, at last, the mop of brown hair on his chest. Oh yes, right... he remembered. Without any conscious effort, Titus let his hand fall into the hitman's hair, damn him if he would not admit it out loud, but it was so soft, he enjoyed carding his fingers through it – good thing Cor liked it as well. So, that was what he did now. With his right, he reached over to the nightstand, checking his phone’s clock: it was past noon. He felt Cor stir, then move a little awkwardly and wince, a groan escaping his hoarse throat. Undeterred, Titus kept carding through the man’s hair until his groan turned into a purr, his voice still thick with sleep. “How you feeling?” the Captain asked, earning a low rumble in response. “My ass hurts.” Cor said bluntly. It had Titus chuckle. “Really? I wonder why...” There was a lazy growl before the hitman continued: “I’m sorry. For last night. I lost my composure.” He inhaled deeply and breathed out slowly. “It won’t happen again.”

Titus did not really know what to say, so, he remained quiet, continuously playing with the other man’s short strands, kissing his crown once. Perhaps that small gesture would convey that he at least understood. They settled into a comfortable silence once more until Titus’ stomach decided to make itself noticeable. Cor chuckled lightly at that. “Your stomach is just as straight forward as you are.” “Yeah, but unlike myself, no amount of self-control can make it shut up.” When his stomach rumbled again, Titus growled displeased. “For fuck’s sake...” The hitman moved off him with a painful grunt. “Go. Before your stomach decides to have me for breakfast.” “Lunch.” “Well... lunch, then.” Titus sat up while Cor snuggled into his pillow, making himself more comfortable. He locked eyes with the hitman and he wondered how someone could have such expressing eyes when the rest was a stoic mask – perhaps that was the reason? “Stay, I’ll prepare something.” “Don’t burn it.” Titus grimaced at that. “Can’t promise that. Coffee? Or water?” “Do your worst. And water’s fine.” 

Cor watched as the Captain got up buck-naked, silently taking in the scratch marks on the other’s back and ass as he went over to the windows and opened one. Swiftly, the man pulled on some sweatpants and went to pick up everything that needed washing before he left the room. Thirty minutes later, Titus re-emerged in the bedroom, balancing two plates and an empty glass. When he saw Cor wrapped up in the thin blanket, he muttered a couple of curses that would have made any seasoned sailor proud. He placed everything onto the bed and went to close the window. “I’m sorry, I forgot.” he muttered, pulling out a wool blanket and draping it over the hitman’s form, who was pulling himself into an upright position. “’s fine.” The Captain disappeared one more time and returned with a mug of steaming coffee and a bottle of water. He sat down next to Cor and scrutinized the results of his cooking sceptically. It was a simple dish, really: penne and eggs mixed in a pan together with sweetcorn and peas. “I’m impressed, you didn’t burn it.” he could hear the hitman say and he shrugged. “It’s the best I could come up with.” Titus said, oddly justifying his meal. Cor hummed when he pulled one plate over, taking a bite. “Tastes good.” 

They ate in silence and once done, Titus returned the dishes back to the kitchen before joining Cor back in bed – they needed to talk, that was clear to both of them. The mug of coffee in one hand, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, one leg propped up, looking at the hitman in front of him. “What brought on that bout of sado-masochistic behaviour last night?” There was a quick flash of something in the hitman’s eyes, but Titus was unable to decipher it. “The envelope. It contains a picture, apparently from when I was younger. Some trip with Regis and the others.” Now, that made sense. Finally, he understood. “There’s five of us on that picture. And I know that Gilgamesh told me to only worry about two because the others had been taken care of.” Cor exhaled slowly, back to his usual aloof self.

“I didn’t pay too much attention to it, because I didn’t care. Now, though... I don’t mind killing people, but I don’t want people to die because of me.” Cor’s voice sounded calm, but irritation and confusion were visible in those blue eyes, brows furrowed just a tad bit more than usually. “I needed something to focus on. It was the only thing I could think of. I don’t even know if this makes any sense.” The Captain regarded him for a moment, before speaking up. “You’re lucky I’ve got to deal with crazy all day long. So yeah, it makes sense.” Cor snorted at that. “Like I said, let’s talk to Clarus and Regis about it. If Sophiar and Armaugh were dead, he would’ve said something already. They do talk frequently as far as I’m aware.” There was a long moment of silence in which Cor glared at a bloody stain on the white sheet between them. “Thank you. For indulging me.” he said eventually, locking eyes with the other man who took another sip from his coffee. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy. :)


	44. A glimpse of a different life

While Cor was in the shower, Titus had texted Regis and Clarus to meet up and then focussed on cleaning up. Once done, he took a shower himself. Afterwards, he had found Cor sitting on the sofa, the envelope with the photograph on the small table. The Captain had told him that it was that particular picture that actually had put them on the hitman’s trail and it had surprised the hitman a little, wondering what logic would have worked that magic. They had talked some, but their conversation had died rather quickly, ending with Titus carding through Cor’s hair again – the man had made himself comfortable on the sofa, his head on the Captain’s thigh. Throughout their conversation, the hitman’s voice had sounded confident and strong, yet, his eyes had betrayed him as they kept staring at some point on the ceiling. When the Captain’s phone shrilled through the silence, he had answered it at once and five minutes later, both men had left the apartment. 

When they arrived at Clarus’ house, Iris threw herself into Cor’s arms as soon as he had stepped over the threshold. It had taken some serious negotiation skills from her father and the others to convince the little girl to let go of the hitman and they only managed because Clarus had to promise her to go to some county fair with her, including the wider family – aka Cor’s attendance was a must. Once she had run to play with her brother, they had gotten down to business. Cor had sounded very aloof when he told the two men the reason for their visit: he wanted them to confirm whether they had spoken with the other two men in that picture lately. To his surprise, they had just smiled fondly. Regis had told him that they had spoken with Weskham Armaugh yesterday early morning and that they had received a text from Cid Sophiar a couple of hours ago, wishing them all the best for the new year. It was a little challenging to actually call due to the different time zones they were all in, both men were living in different countries in Europe.

When they had asked what it was all about, Cor had closed himself off completely – his focus had shifted to Gilgamesh, wondering how often the man had actually lied to him, trying to find a reason for all this. Distantly, he could hear the two elder men needling the Captain for more details, but Titus had remained as tight-lipped as himself and he had been glad about that. The man had simply told them part of Cor’s reasoning but left out all the nitty-gritty details of their own conversation – it was not like he had lied, he just had skipped the vital details. Seeing that they would not get anywhere with those two stubborn monkeys, the two bosses relented and, instead, asked them to stay for dinner. 

The next hours flew by at an incredible speed. Titus had been roped into playing with Iris in the yard, having to crawl around in the snow with her on his back. Prompto, Noctis, Ignis and Gladiolus were working on some mutant-snowman-army to see who could build the scarier monster. Regis, Clarus and Cor were busy in the kitchen. While Regis was cooking, Clarus was prepping the roast and Cor chopped the vegetables into small slices. Every now and then, the two would rope him into their conversation – telling him about movies he should watch, badgering him about the noticeable limp in his walk and trying to pry out information on his likes and dislikes. Despite refusing to answer most questions, the hitman took it with stride as it did distract him from his darker thoughts; not realizing how much he had enjoyed himself until he caught himself laughing lightly at how the Captain looked when entering the kitchen for a glass of water: the man was utterly soaked and chunks of fast-melting snow still stuck to his ruffled hair; his cheeks, ears and nose red. When Titus and the others stared at him, he cleared his throat awkwardly and returned to chopping vegetables, trying to hide the blush he knew he was sporting. At some point, Clarus had to hit him with an eggplant to stop him from cutting up even more greens – needless to say, they ended up with a very large bowl of salad that evening. 

Dinner itself had been fantastic and highly amusing. The teens and Iris were swapping around foods from their plates with each other, and even Regis tried to convince Clarus that he had too many vegetables on his plate and would like to share with the other. Titus was forced to wearing some of Gladiolus’ clothes while his own were in the tumble dryer and the younger man had made sure to give him the most colourful and obscene shirt he could find: sporting a water melon slice and the caption ‘trust me, you can swallow my seed’. It had made them all laugh hard, seeing that the man wearing said shirt was looking like he would go off on a killing spree if someone said the wrong thing. Cor could not even look at him without quipping a witty remark that only fuelled the fire. It got even worse when Iris asked what it was all about and they had to come up with something reasonably believable. When Regis took a picture with his phone, however, Titus did reach for the carving knife. Fortunately for them, the alarm went off at that moment, indicating the dessert was ready to be served. 

The two men had left after Clarus had to peel a sleeping Iris off Cor and carried her to bed. They did not drive back to Titus’ apartment, rather, they went to the hitmen’s safehouse, so Cor could pick up some clothes for the remainder of their three-day long weekend. With the house being quiet, it felt even more overwhelming and Cor had told him the only reason they had chosen this place was because it was relatively isolated with a nice quiet forest in the back where they could go hunting and practice shooting. Besides, who would ever expect two assassins to buy such an ostentatious residence?! The Captain had to agree with that notion. 

Titus was waiting downstairs, while Cor was packing everything he needed. When he saw him walk back down, the hitman grimaced unhappy, but did not say anything. He dropped the small duffel bag next to the Captain before pulling the carpet away and pulling out the latch opening the hatch. Wordlessly, he went downstairs just to come back up with a combat knife in his hands. He pushed it against Titus’ chest and when the other took hold of it, he focussed on placing everything back into place. “You said I owed you a knife. Take it. I had it specially made a few years back but I'm not using knifes too often; it's tempered steel, shouldn’t break that easily.” The Captain regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “Debts should always be repaid. It’s impolite not to. No?” he asked matter-of-factly, after a moment of silence. “Yeah...” the other replied, voice low, watching Cor intently. The hitman’s frown deepened by a fraction before his lips quirked up minimally, but he left it at that, picking up his bag and heading for the door. Titus followed quietly. 

As soon as the door to his apartment had closed behind them, Titus was on him. Pressing Cor against the wall, he bit and tugged at his earlobe. “You bloody fuckin’ tease.” he rumbled heatedly. “Do you even know what you’re doin’?” He could hear the hitman purr lowly. “You do, don’t you?!” Another small sound escaped the smaller man’s throat while the Captain continued feeling him up. “If you hadn’t done it yourself already, I’d fuck you senseless.” Titus grabbed Cor around his thighs and lifted him up, the man’s legs closing around him automatically. “Guess I ought to make do with something else, then.” Cor let his arms snake around his back, returning the favour of speaking into his ear; voice collected and clear, dusted with a hint of amusement, though: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Naturally.” Titus carried the hitman to the bedroom and threw him gracelessly onto the sheets, glaring him down when he saw the wicked gleam in the other’s eyes. “You're a menace.” he growled and threw himself on top of Cor, starting to grapple him. They fought for a while before Titus managed to pin the man’s hands down beside his head. He went in for the kill and bit down on Cor’s strong SCM... which turned out to be the wrong move. The hitman gasped and jerked – and his leg came up, kneeing the Captain in the groin.

Everything came to a halt in that moment. Cor could practically feel the man’s pain himself when he heard him choke on the howl that threatened to escape his throat, his body going rigid. When silence settled over them, Cor waited patiently for the other to start moving again. Eventually, he could hear the Captain rasp, “That’s... the third time! Fuck...” “I’m... sorry?” Cor replied, trying to hide his embarrassment, his lips curling upward a little. “As if... you bastard.” Titus growled and nuzzled the hitman’s jacket and shirt out of the way before biting down hard on the man’s trapezius. Cor gasped loudly. He squirmed under the taller man but the hold on his wrists did not budge. "You won't move, touch or make a sound.” Titus commanded harshly and released the man’s wrists, sliding down along Cor’s frame until he was kneeling between the man’s legs in front of the bed. He pulled him closer to the edge.

Growling angry, he pressed his palm against Cor’s groin area, feeling the man’s length. He let his fingers trail up and down the fabric and felt the small shudder that rippled through the hitman’s body. He increased the pressure and focussed on pressing down against the lower part, feeling the hitman’s cock strain against the fabric. He kept going, knowing full well that the jeans must have been painfully tight but Cor refrained from moving, biting down on his bottom lip to keep any sounds inside. Titus looked up, propping his head onto his free hand, looking almost bored, if it were not for that wolfish smirk. “So docile, if he wants to be. Good.” he chuckled amused and Cor exhaled sharply, drawing his lips into a thin line, averting his eyes stubbornly. Titus pressed the heel of his palm against the head of Cor’s cock and slid it along his length with more force. The hitman’s breath hitched once and he bared his teeth in a silent snarl. He slowly pulled the belt strap through the buckle, the prong releasing from the punch hole. Titus leaned in and let his teeth graze over the fabric of the man’s confined cock, before biting down. There was a small jerk in Cor’s thigh but the man got it back under control immediately. “Very good.” The Captain had to give it to him, the hitman had quite the resolve. Next, came the button and the fly was pulled down oh-so slowly. Titus could see Cor’s chest rise and fall with every ragged breath he took. When he shifted a little up, he could see the man was gripping the sheets tight. He pulled the man’s cock free and felt the small tremors that rippled through the man’s muscles. There was a small noise in the back of Cor’s throat but he stubbornly swallowed it down again. Titus growled pleased, taking in the sight before him: the hitman had turned his head to the side; eyes partly closed, breath laboured, body twitching under every touch that was placed upon his heated skin. It was a good look. 

Without preamble, he went down on Cor’s cock. He could smell the heady scent and moaned around the shaft, lapping at the slit to taste him. There was another tremor, this time barely contained. Titus worked his way down the whole length until the cockhead was nicely seated in the back of his throat before he swallowed. Cor sobbed once quietly – it was such a nice sound to the Captain’s ears. Titus pulled off almost all the way before dropping down again, repeating the motion over and over again. At some point, Cor was unable to hold back the deep groan and it made the Captain shudder. He pulled his own zipper down and freed his cock, moaning around the hot flesh in his mouth when he started stroking himself roughly. Cor groaned again and started tossing his head around, a coil of barely contained need by now. When the hitman’s hips bucked up, Titus growled and pulled off – just barely clinging to the self-control he had left. He moved up and grabbed a fistful of brown hair, pulling Cor’s head around. “You received no permission to move, soldier.” he snarled, but when the man’s blue eyes returned his heated glare, he froze.

Titus swallowed hard; the man’s pupils were so blown out that the blue was only a thin circle. The hitman’s voice was shaky and thick with need, when he spoke: “Permission... to touch... sir. Please.” The last word sounded so desperate, Titus’ sanity and any pathetic remains of self-control went straight out of the window. He barely managed to press out a “granted” before their mouths collided for a heated battle of tongues. Cor’s hands were on him at once, sliding over his clothed chest before moving down to wrap themselves around the taller man’s thick length. The hitman could feel Titus ruck his shirt up before he took hold of his cock again and started pumping. Both men separated and panted heavily, stroking each other to completion, never breaking eye contact. Titus watched mesmerized as Cor arched against him when he cummed, his breath catching in his throat. That was all he needed to fall over the precipice. 

Cor swallowed and sought out the Captain’s lips again, kissing him with a desperate need he did not know he possessed, but when Titus returned the kiss the same way, the feeling started to fade just as quickly as it had emerged. They did not say anything, just kept bumping their noses into each other until Cor jerked in surprise. Titus’ index and middle fingers were trailing through the cum on his stomach, making his skin tingle. He was about to lower himself to do his due diligence when the smaller man stopped him. “Let me.” The Captain hummed in understanding before he coated his fingers with their seed and brought it up to the hitman’s lips. They parted and a hesitant tongue flicked out, licking the white substance off. The taste had Cor frown, it was not the worst but certainly not the best thing he had ever tasted. It was bitter, yet salty and he did not know what to compare it to – he had never tasted anything like that. But, considering the fact that it was the Captain’s and his own cum he had just swallowed, gave the whole thing a different meaning and it aroused him more than it probably should have. When the two fingers returned with some more, he lapped at them with more conviction. The third time around, he let those fingers enter his mouth to play with his tongue. It earned him a guttural growl from Titus before the man joined in and pushed his tongue into the hitman’s wet cavern as well. Distantly, Cor acknowledged the fact that this man might have officially ruined him – oddly enough, he did not mind it one bit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Works is so busy... there's little time to write, but oh well. here we go again. enjoy :)


	45. New year, same old shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Act II - The Captain

"Oh, my fucking hell... this is ridiculous.” Nyx laughed hard when Gladiolus showed him the picture Regis had taken of their Captain on Friday evening. “This shirt... I love it.” the agent cried, clutching his stomach, tears in his eyes. “I can’t believe it. How did you manage that?” “Well... thank Iris for that. If it hadn’t been for her, then, we would have missed out on one hell of a picture.” “You guys are impossible.” Monica commented, looking over Nyx's shoulder, trying to hide the smirk that threatened to break through. “Oh, c’mon, this is fantastic. Now, we have some real blackmail material if the Captain makes us run additional chores again.” Nyx defended his rationale, but only received a raised eyebrow. “Do you really think he will budge? I’d rather expect him to add additional chores onto your additional chores instead.” Both men thought that through first before nodding hesitantly. “That’s a possibility.”

Nyx saw Pelna come in and waved him over. “Dude, look at this... look, look!” Excited, the agent rushed over. “Show me something naughty.” he chimed amused and Gladiolus showed him his phone. Pelna let out a high-pitched yelp and started sniggering like a schoolgirl. “Yes, finally... blackmail material! Hah...” Monica just shook her head – these guys were all the same: little children. “I want all senior agents in my office in five!” barked their Captain loudly and marched through the open-plane office that made up the agents’ workplace. Nyx and Pelna jumped squealing which earned them both an unimpressed stare. “Got a problem Ulric?” “No watermelon, sir!” he shot back before realizing. “Ehm...” Immediately, all four agents tensed. Keeping his composure, Drautos continued his stride, unimpressed on the outside, seething on the inside – one of these days he was going to kill Regis Lucis Caelum! “Office! Now!” 

Since Lazarus’ little stunt, the numbers of senior agents in the unit had decreased drastically; not that they were that large to begin with. He was calmly staring each of his agents down: Monica Elshett, Pelna Khara, Nyx Ulric, Axis Arra and the new guy: Petra Fortis. When the agents looked at him expectantly, he slid a file over to them. “This morning at oh-seven-hundred hours we received a call from the RCAF requesting assistance in a multiple homicide they are incapable of dealing with on their own. We will be taking this one on as we were specifically requested. Expected duration of our stay is at least two weeks. The RCAF has provided us with some very top-level information, but due to some technicalities were unable to send us everything – for now, we're going in blind.” “Uh, Captain, where are we going?” “And what’s RCAF?” Oh, right... they did not know.

“Royal Cambodian Armed Forces – RCAF. We’re going to Cambodia.” he clarified dryly, watching the eyes of the agents going wide. “Cambodia? Where the heck is that?” Breathing slowly in and out, Drautos counted silently to ten. “The Kingdom of Cambodia is located on the Indochina peninsula in South Asia. It’s relatively poor which is why it depends so much on China and other countries and was ravaged by war more often than not. It’s most famous for the endless violence and prostitution-slave-trade, but, it has one of the most fascinating sights in the world as well: just think Angkor Wat. If you want to know more Khara, go and google it. I’m not a library. Elshett, I want you to book flights for Ulric's team and I to Phnom Penh International Airport, the newbie is staying. We will require a special permit for the carry and use of firearms.” “On it.” The Captain leaned forward, a deep scowl covering his features. “We will work this by the book. No pranks, no jokes, no stupid remarks and no. Playing. Hero.” At the last word, he glared directly at Ulric who appeared serious enough – for now. “The country is dangerous. Any false step and you’re dead... or worse. Do I make myself clear?!” When the agents nodded, Drautos leaned back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Bring full gear. Any questions? No, good. Dismissed.” Elshett grabbed the file and the five agents left, closing the door behind them. 

Once the door was shut, Drautos sighed exasperated. What had been the odds that he had to be deployed to that part of the world again in this job – they must have been close to zero, yet, it happened. Frankly, he had been surprised that call had come through. He was not even sure how those people knew where he worked, but there were always means and ways. When Regis had called him into his office earlier today, he had been very surprised about what he had been told: a direct request for his attendance; how did they even know of him? With a deep growl, he straightened his back. No time like the present, he had work to do. He could complain later. 

Later happened to be at twenty-two-hundred hours when Clarus found the Captain in his office, still going through reports he needed to catch-up on. “Shouldn’t you be home by now?” the man asked, closing the door behind him. “Sure, and then I have to listen to you whine about delayed reports... thanks, but no thanks.” came the sharp remark instantly. “Guilty as charged, I guess. But seriously, go home. Regis is already looking for some assistance.” “And how’s that going? Can’t imagine many people being happy to just read reports and sign them off!” “Oh well... he’s not giving up hope.” “Good for him.” Clarus huffed. “Go home.” he repeated sternly. “You have someone waiting for you now, you can’t just spend your hours here.” At that, Titus looked up from the report he was reading. “I seriously hope you won’t be using that as your new argument.” “Oh no, I've got that one particular picture for those occasions.” “Fucking hell... Regis!” Titus groaned. “Did that man send it to every-fuckin'-one?” “No, I did.” There was a low and desperate sounding cry that escaped the tall man’s throat, but Clarus was not sure what it was; all he knew was that it sounded very sad.

“There are moments like these when I hate your guts so much that I just want to kill you. And Regis.” Titus said and received an amused chuckle in return. “I bet. Now, go home. Hate us from there, if you don’t mind.” “Yeah, yeah, yeah... I’m going. Fuck off already.” And then, Titus stopped. “Why did you come in the first place?” Clarus shrugged. “Just wanted to see how you doing. Seeing that the call came out of the blue asking for you specifically certainly means someone knows you from... before. Was wondering if you’re okay with it?” “I’m fine, not overly impressed... feeling the need to painfully kill someone, preferably the idiot who called, but I’m fine. I’ll deal with the rest when it comes down to it.” “That’s a very interesting way of phrasing things. But okay. On a serious note, though. If anything happens: call us. When are you guys leaving?” Both started their way down to the exit. “Wednesday evening. It takes at least 24 hours to get the damn permit for our weapons. Also, we need more people!” Clarus nodded at that. “We certainly do. Unfortunately, not many are willing to work in a unit that has acquired the reputation of losing its members quite frequently. It narrows down our options.” “If they’re scared, they aren’t worth the effort.” “True. But sad.” Clarus placed a hand on the taller man’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, my friend. And say ‘hi’ to Cor.” “What makes you think he’s at my place?” “Hah, nice try.” 

He managed to get home in less than an hour, which was nice. What was even nicer was finding the hitman sprawled out on the sofa, reading. The icing on the cake was Cor telling him there was dinner in the oven waiting for him, knowing full well that the Captain had likely not eaten much. Titus had at least the decency to look sheepish at that remark before he disappeared into the bathroom to get himself cleaned up. He had joined Cor on the sofa, having dinner while the other continued reading, head propped against his thigh. It was a comfortable silence and once the taller man was done, they finished everything up and retired to the bedroom. Before succumbing to sleep, Titus distantly thought that this was nice. 

With the new year came also some changes for their unit. Mainly, to their overly busy schedule. It was not enough that the agents had to attend additional training seminars to stay up-to-date with their profiling skills but they also needed to be physically in peak condition. Thus, the Board of Directors had decided to load even more tasks onto their shoulders. Unfortunately, this time around, nobody could actually complain, seeing that it was a necessity. They had to up their training pensum: from thrice a week, they had to train now five times a week. Which meant, Drautos had to work out additional schedules for the teams. Luckily, Elshett was there to assist – in the end, she did most of the work, if he was honest. He just told her what he expected of the drills. When the female agent had left his office that day, he had called up Clarus and told her that they should stop wasting time to find him an assistant and that he wanted Elshett to fill in that position. They should rather worry about getting him more agents to push around rather than anyone else. His two superiors agreed with that surprisingly quickly and it made him suspicious, but at the same time, he could not be bothered too much. He was too old to deal with their shit. 

In the evening, Titus had told Cor about the case. The hitman had simply looked at him and nodded, asking if it had something to do with his past. The Captain had just shrugged, saying that he honestly did not know how much it tied in with that, but at the same time, whatever happened he would deal with ad hoc. He was not truly excited about leaving but at the same time, he refused to let the agents go on their own – someone needed to keep an eye out for them. That night, they had fucked so hard, they looked like they had gotten into a fight when they were done. When Titus left for work the next morning, he left the spare key to his apartment on the small table in the living room, accompanied by a note for Cor to ‘suck it up and take it’. 

The team spent all Wednesday preparing for their journey. But when they met up at the check-in counter, the Captain did a double take, staring at Elshett as if she had declared she would quit. “What are you doing here?” The woman looked surprised. “Well, I am... confirming my check-in?” she said, not quite sure what her superior wanted from her. “No. I said Ulric’s team only – that's the idiot himself, Ostium, Khara and Arra.” “Hey!” “But sir, you changed that months ago when Lib... I mean agent Ostium dropped off the rota.” Only then did it dawn on him and Drautos cursed so badly, it made even Ulric blush. “I forgot to change it back.” he sighed annoyed. “Elshett, you can’t go. There’s no way I’m letting a woman go to that place.” “With all due respect sir. If I drop out now, you’re one man down and you can’t afford not having my brains around. Besides, I can take care of myself.” “This is not a negotiation, Elshett. You’re staying and that’s final.” “Uhm, excuse me.” the small lady at the counter said hesitantly and the agents looked at her. The tall man’s glare made her cower in fear. “I’m... afraid Ms. Elshett can’t... cancel any longer, she’s... checked-in already and I just finalized her attendance. Which means she... has to fly now. Sorry...” There was a moment of silence, then, “Naturally." the Captain growled. “Fine. But one of the guys will stay by your side twenty-four-seven.” 

The flight itself took a little over 25 hours, including two connecting flights. The agents had been enjoying themselves, playing cards, chatting and joking about all kinds of things, all the while Drautos had remained huddled in his seat, mulling over the fact that he had forgotten such a vital thing. He could have slapped himself left and right for this screw-up. At some point, he had allowed the others to rope him into their game of cards. There was little he could do about it now and there was no point stewing in it. Towards the end of their journey, they rolled some dice to see who had to stay with who in the room – of course, Drautos had to be the lucky bastard to lose in the first round and got paired up with Ulric.

Not that he had expected anything else from Karma – she evidently hated his guts. He just prayed they had single beds, otherwise they would definitely return with one man less in tow. When the agents arrived, they had been welcomed by Lieutenant General Amara Bora, the left hand of the current General in charge of the RCAF and head of the local Gendarmerie. He had informed them that he would be their handler for the duration of their stay. The man was of small built, but still virile. And he was chatty. He practically threw all the information into their faces. At least they would not have any issues obtaining the data they needed, big plus! However, the man’s chattiness became very irritating when he dodged every attempt of the Captain to find out who had called them in. No matter, in the end, the small Lieutenant had dropped them at their hotel and left them to their own devices, confirming that he would pick them up in the morning to escort them to their base of operation. And so, their official work began. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we go with Act II of the whole thing. 
> 
> By the way, ... does anyone else think that Regis would do a real good Alpecin advert - I mean, the man's got some nice hair for his age... right? 
> 
> Anyhow, do enjoy :)


	46. Cambodia

On the way to the office, Lieutenant Bora had informed the agents about the six different regional pillars of command that were enforced throughout the country, breaking it down into smaller portions to maintain better oversight – and control. He, then, started talking about the murders: apparently, several tourists had been kidnapped, tortured and killed, their bodies showing signs of severe mutilation. They had agreed to visit the morgue later in the day to have a look at those bodies. When they arrived at the office in Phnom Penh, they started setting up their equipment in a large meeting room that was specially vacated for them. Once done, they began reviewing the crime scene reports to identify the most crucial points for their victimology and suspect behaviour. 

“We have seven victims, all sturdy males, athletic. They have sustained extreme physical damage, have a split tongue and a hole in the head. Don’t think it can get weirder than that.” Khara said, contemplating. “Maybe they entered some fighting competition? No... maybe they were recruited?” Elshett guessed. “But then, why would they have their tongues cut like that and have a hole in their head?” “Because they lost, quit?” Elshett replied to Ulric’s question. “So, it’s like a dare, then?” “I doubt that someone with even the barest minimum of sanity would let themselves be lobotomized or bifurcated just as part of a dare. Even after they got their arse kicked in a fight. Besides, there would be more bruises... this has to be painful. Toxicology was also negative, so, no drugs were involved.” Drautos added quietly, not lifting his gaze from the pictures. “So what, they’re being picked up, fight, then let themselves be killed? That doesn't sound right.” “Arra, look into anything that screams weird deaths. I want to know whether anything similar to this happened before. If you can’t find anything, look into lore.” “Lore?” “Sometimes people associate themselves with figures from lore, to deliver a message, to find meaning in life. Association can be a powerful tool. Try and see if there is anything about rituals that includes either: split tongue or lobotomy.” the Captain elaborated. “If we understand what these injuries mean, we understand what the killer is after. Also, check any facilities that might have used similar applications in treatment and-or punishment: mental institutions, penitentiaries, guerrilla groups – the latter you might not find too much on publicly, but use the RCAF’s database. For now, we focus on what we have.”

“I really hope you do more than just theorizing.” The agents jumped in their chairs when a deep voice commented on Drautos’ orders. They all turned to see a tall blonde man lean against the threshold of the door that had been closed since they had entered this room – they had been too focussed to notice him entering. The Captain breathed out slowly and put on his best poker face. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your pups?” Drautos’ brow twitched slightly, nevertheless did he do as asked: “Team. Arseny Kuznetsov – these are agents Elshett, Ulric, Khara and Arra. A word!” He got up and walked past the other man who simply followed with a nasty grin on his lips. Once the two men were out of earshot, Ulric commented: “It hasn’t been more than a minute and I don’t like that guy. Looking at him gives me the creeps. Have you seen that scar?” “Yeah. Scary dude.” Khara added. “Nonsense, you’re overreacting. Focus, boys!” Elshett commented. 

Drautos turned the corner and demanded, “What is this? And how did you find me!” The taller man just continued smirking smugly. His features were marred by having spent years on the battlefield under the sun. There was a long nasty scar going from his right upper lip diagonally to his ear, part of that ear was missing. It made the man look terrible, almost savage. However, there was no denying that for a man in his late 50-ies, he looked still strong; obviously, he still spent enough hours in the gym. “I found you because I needed to. There is someone out there, running around in my city killing tourists. I can’t have that, now, can I.” “Your city? Since when do you care for law and order?” Kuznetsov stepped threateningly into Drautos’ space. “You watch that mouth of yours, soldier. We may have parted ways years back, but I'm still your senior.” “So what? And don’t think this will work on me.” The man laughed darkly. “Right... it takes more to intimidate you, doesn't it? Tell me, what do those kids call you nowadays? Glauca? Or is it something else; I could never keep track of the names they gave you, cockwhore.”

The Captain fought down the urge to snarl, not wanting to give the man the satisfaction. “Stay away from my agents! Don’t talk to them, look at them or think about them.” Squaring his shoulders, Drautos made sure to bring the message across that was hidden between the lines. The blonde man just laughed. “Don’t act as if you care. It’s only a matter of time until you turn on them too. And we both know it. Whores are not known to be loyal after all, am I right?” Drautos returned the other man’s stare with burning hatred. The man regarded him for a moment longer before he said, “Well... don't mind me, then. Go on and solve me that case!” The Captain pushed past the man and walked back to their meeting room, but stopped momentarily. “And it’s Drautos.” he said, before continuing down his way. 

When he closed the door behind him and took a seat, he pointedly ignored the questioning stares from the other agents. Rather, he focussed on the matter at hand. Eventually, he said, “Arra, I don’t see you working.” The younger agent jumped and pulled his laptop open. “Captain...” That was Ulric – of course, who else. “... are we really going to ignore the elephant in the room?” Fuck his life – he was not going to win this, but he could try. Drautos sighed and leaned back. “What do you want to know, Ulric?” “Well... for starters, how come you know this guy?” “We worked together.” How mighty vague that was. “How about it: let’s get the profile sorted first and then, I’ll play 20 questions with you.” At that, the younger agent’s eyes started sparkling and his smile grew wide. “You got yourself a deal, Captain.” “Ouh yeah. Let’s get cracking.” Khara added with mounting vigour that made Drautos huff amused – those guys were impossible. 

As much enthusiasm as the agents showed, they only made little progress. While Arra was busy typing away on his laptop to find all the information their Captain wanted, Ulric was still trying to figure out things from looking at the pictures. Elshett and Khara had accompanied Drautos to the morgue, or rather, the pathetic excuse of a building it was located in. It was evident that their facilities were sub-optimal, and that was meant in the nicest way possible. One of the bodies had already started decaying because of the non-existent temperature control and it made them gag uncomfortably. However, true to their word, the younger agents stood by their Captain as he was arm-deep in one of the body’s organs. “Is this... really necessary, Captain?” “I can imagine myself doing nicer things than this, Khara.” came the grunted reply as Drautos pulled out the heart with a very disgusting sound and threw it into a metal bowl. Looking at the contents, he sighed. “Looks like it’s all there.” “Maybe it wasn’t a ritual killing, after all?!” Elshett mused. “Maybe this whole split-tongue and hole-in-head thing is just a distraction?” Khara provided, looking more closely at the external wounds.

“These cuts are deep and they bled a lot, this means they must have been applied after the fight, when the heart is still pumping blood at high-speed.” “Maybe our suspect is still testing things out? Still trying to figure out what works best and when and how?” The trio fell silent, trying to connect the few dots they had, but to no avail. Wiping his arm clean, Drautos moved on to the next body, glaring it down coldly. There were bruises, deep cuts, the hole and the tongue. The body was covered in a sheen of white dust but he paid it no attention. “What could possibly have caused these wounds?” he rumbled, drawing the attention of the other two agents to the body. “It doesn’t look like a knife wound. The edges are too ridged.” Elshett commented thoughtfully. “These cuts are also surprisingly parallel and the gaps look to be of similar distance.” Drautos nodded in agreement. “Then, our next question is what item could be used to cause such cuts.” 

As the shrill sound of the Captain’s phone rang through the quiet call, it made them jump in surprise. Looking at the caller ID, Drautos answered. “Arra. What do you have?” There was a moment of silence in which the Captain’s scowl darkened. “We’ll be on our way back.” he said and hung up, marching over to the small Lieutenant who stood silently by; watching. “When were you planning on telling me that we aren’t allowed access to your criminal records database?” The man just looked at him innocently. “I didn’t think it was necessary. Why would you need access to our records for such a case?” “Because we can’t rule out recidivism or anything else at this point. We literally have nothing to go on!” “I can assure you, nothing of the likes has happened before, so...” “I don’t give a fuck about what you assure me of. Grant my agents the access they need or we’re done.” The small man’s smile never faltered but there was a certain undertone in his voice, when he replied. “It’ll be taken care of.” With that, the discussion was finished and Drautos grabbed his jacket, heading towards the exit of the building. When Elshett and Khara fell in line, the former asked, “Shouldn’t we at least try to play nice?” The tall Captain simply grunted – his way of saying that he had been nice. “At least let’s get some lunch if we’re headed back.” she suggested. “Yes, food sounds great.” Khara added happily before the trio stepped into the rising heat of a nice sunny day. 

They did stop at a restaurant to get some food and when they arrived at their meeting room, Arra and Ulric welcomed them with happy squeals when they smelled the food. They had a very late lunch while brainstorming over the information they had. “We’ve got two options for now: some killer who likes to beat up his victims first, then tortures them and then mutilates the corpses to make it look like a ritual or a killer who is still trying to figure out his own preference in killing and is trying out different things. What we can be certain of, is that our suspect is killing with intent. Every cut is placed without second thought. There is no abrasion around the wounds.” Drautos started. “We still have no clue what makes these guys targets though. Is it their ability to withstand more pressure than untrained people, a challenge for the killer or something else...” he continued after finishing his bottle of water, throwing it into the small trash bin – why did this place have no AC?

“They have nothing in common so far, except the fact that they go to the gym. Different hair and eye colour. Do we have anything else on the victims?” Elshett added, looking at Arra but the man shook his head. “Nothing. No criminal records, a ton of hobbies, good at their jobs and their tourist visa is fine.” “What did they work as?” “Uhm... one was a teacher, four were office workers. One guy was studying and one had quit his job at the library.” Ulric groaned. “What about hobbies?” Arra threw the other agent an annoyed glare. “I’m not reading out that list, you can look at it yourself.” he snapped and finished the last remains of his cold food. Ulric grabbed hold of the laptop and skimmed over one of the open windows on the screen. “That’s a mighty fine list of hobbies indeed. Seems like they’ve been into a lot.” The agent frowned. “Another dead-end, then.” Khara commented with a yawn. “What’s the frequency of the deaths, remind me?” “A body every other week.” Elshett answered. “Great. So, we’re running out of time as well.” Khara lamented. “No pressure...” “See if you got access to the database, perhaps there is someone with a background of killing animals, Arra. Usually, suspects work their way up.” Drautos spoke, quietly, evidence of him still sorting through some line of thought he was not willing to share at this point. The younger agent simply nodded. 

When they still had not been able to come up with anything reasonable by the end of the day, the agents left the RCAF premisses to return to their hotel – perhaps a break and good night’s sleep would help shedding new light onto the information they had. 

“I see, they have arrived.” the man said quietly to his companion while looking out the window. “They have. But what’s it to you?” “A private matter.” The other man laughed. “How do you wanna proceed?” “Play with them a little if you must. But I want that man dead.” The man at the door folded his arms around his chest. “How?” “Slow. Painful.” “And the others?” “Do as you please.” He chuckled darkly. “I intended to do that anyway, you aren’t the only one with unfinished business.” The other did not reply but kept his gaze focussed on the people running about hectically outside the building. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the jungle... I guess... do enjoy. :)


	47. This makes no sense...

They had breakfast at oh-eight-hundred hours, all the while waiting for the Lieutenant to show. Meanwhile, they were agreeing on their actions for the day – Arra was going to continue his data research, Ulric and Elshett were meant to try and put together the victimology and suspect behaviour while Khara and Drautos would visit the crime scenes. When Lieutenant Bora finally arrived, he apologized too much and too loud for the delay – apparently traffic was to be blamed. They had dropped off the three agents at the RCAF headquarters before heading towards the first crime scene. 

The first body had been found in an empty shack isolated from the touristy corners in Prey Veng. Despite the Gendarmerie's insignia on the door, it quickly became evident that people had ignored it and entered the small place – whether it was for a cheap thrill or something else, they did not know, but whatever it was meant that their crime scene had been ruined. They did, however, try to salvage what they could, crawling through the dirt and trash in hope of finding anything, everything under the scorching heat of the sun. They did not find what they hoped for, though, but it turned out that people would walk past the shack more often than not. It left the two men with the question on how their suspect had managed to arrange everything without actually being disturbed accidentally. 

It took them three hours to get to the second crime scene. Again, the location was specific; an old run-down place – a small house that had been vacated and was sometimes occupied by beggars and the homeless. The strong stench of excrements had caused Khara to puke and he had remained outside, checking the perimeter around the house. The chair inside the small house was still where it had been when the body had been found: it was placed in the middle of a simple white circle – again. Crouching down, Drautos looked at it closely: there were small traces of abrasion on the chair’s arms and front legs, indicating that the victim must have been tied to it. The seat was also darker than the rest of the chair, perhaps because the victim had relieved himself in fear. “Captain.” Khara entered the room carefully. “I didn’t find anything outside. Like... no traces at all. Seems our killer knows how to hide.” Drautos nodded and beckoned the other man over. “You're scared to the point that you piss yourself, yet, something very important is missing.” Khara looked around, frowning, his brain working on high-speed. And then, he noticed. “There's no blood or urine on the floor. How?! Was he brought here?” “Likely.” 

They moved on to the third crime scene, only half an hour driving-distance from the second. It was another unused building: a small closed-down restaurant. Evidently, the killer had a penchant for run-down buildings, knowing exactly where they were. Khara let out a frustrated sigh. “How does he even know where to find these buildings? I somehow doubt that estate agents actually have a lot of work here, judging by the number of people needing accommodation.” “On the contrary. Places come and go quickly, it’s highly difficult to keep an empty space unoccupied for too long – they actually have quite the market. The question is, however, how does our killer know – either, he works in estate management or something that’s keeping oversight of such records.” the Captain rumbled deeply, loosening his tie a little. Inside the room was a chair again, placed within a white circle. Looking at his phone’s clock, he sighed. “Let’s take a break.” “Sounds good Captain. How about... is street food any good, here?” “You won’t die, if that’s what you’re asking.” “Enough for me.” They tried to order at a small booth, but ended up having to ask the Lieutenant for some assistance when the lady who was selling the food did not understand a thing they had said. 

They were sitting in the black SUV, having lunch while on the phone with the others. “I did find something on lobotomy and the bifurcation – which is the actual term for splitting tongues for anyone who hasn’t noticed yet: apparently, people with mental disorders were lobotomized to improve their psychological stability. Patients would be emotionally stunted and show decreased levels of inhibition, sometimes they would even have most violent episodes, when triggered. Now, the split-tongue thing. It’s mostly used in South Africa actually, some voodoo stuff – some priest would cut the tongue, then kill the person, so, they can be transformed into ‘obedient slaves’ the tongue cutting is more a symbol of keeping secrets and not talking. For Asia, however, there are only references to certain deities in Buddhism and such, but that’s it.” 

Drautos had a thoughtful expression on his face while he listened quietly. “Well, we can be certain that our suspect is well educated, travelling might be part of his life.” Khara said. “It’s not just about the travelling, Khara. If our killer knows about different regional specifications in such detail, it means he’s not just a tourist. It means he lived there long enough to understand local customs. He’s adaptable, smart, trained.” “What did you find on your end, guys?” That was Elshett. “We can be certain that the ritual thing is just a distraction. We found some painted circles but that’s it.” the younger agent started. “Our guy knows where he can drop the bodies, he knows the area, how people tick, so, they don’t run into him and he can do his work without being interrupted. He takes the victims in, keeps them around for the hard work and then drops them in empty and stinky places. He must have the necessary equipment for it as well, something that doesn’t draw attention either. He needs a car for starters and people must not question his attendance, he must be a ‘common sight’ around here.” 

“What does that mean for us, agents?” Right, there was someone else in the car with them – how could they have forgotten? Drautos turned around to Lieutenant Bora. “That we’re still working, Lieutenant. And we’d like to not be interrupted.” Focussing his attention back to the call, he added: “Our killer is organized enough to know where to find the targets within a short span of time. It’s likely that our suspect can access hotels.” “So, you think he’s picking them up there? That would mean that our killer is not a local.” “Not quite, it means simply that he may look like a tourist himself, perhaps it’s someone who moved here. Or he’s a common sight, respectable to not be questioned. Unfortunately, this covers a large number of inhabitants. We need to filter out those with low-income, bad education and non-influential jobs.” “Someone who’s got access to state records and may or may not have had some kind of military training.” Khara added quickly. “Ulric, you’re awfully quiet.” the Captain stated with a raised eyebrow. Generally, when the younger man did not join a conversation, it meant he disagreed with something.

“Captain, something doesn’t sit right with me. Why is our suspect doing this the way he does? It’s complex, time-consuming and increases the likelihood to get caught. What message is he trying to convey?” “That’s something we’ve got to figure out. Look into the victims again. Perhaps, there’s more to it.” “I’ll do that.” Turning towards the Lieutenant, Drautos asked, “Where are the other crimes scenes and how far away are we?” The small man flipped quickly through his notes before he replied: “One body was found in Chbar Mon and three along the main route to Kampong Thom. To get to Chbar Mon we’ll need a four-hour drive from here. Kamphong Thom is even further away. It is advisable to maybe visit those places tomorrow?” Drautos nodded. “Makes sense, any longer in this sauna and you can get yourself new agents. Let’s get back to your HQ and we’ll try to put together a preliminary profile. Elshett, start on it already.” “Got it, sir.” 

The small Lieutenant jerked his head once and revved the engine, focussing on the road ahead. 

It took them roughly two hours to get back and what Drautos found did not please him in the slightest – not that he was in an overly good mood to begin with, the heat getting to him. Kuznetsov was leaning against a cabinet, chatting away with Arra in the small kitchen, sipping coffee. He walked in on them laughing and the younger agent scurried away sheepishly seeing the thundering gaze of his superior. Khara followed quietly. Once he was alone with the blonde, he started: “Did all the gunfire make you deaf or was it all the hits to the head that made you forgetful? I told you to stay away.” Drautos’ voice was cold, but internally he was seething and wishing he could punch that stupid grin off the man’s face. “You can’t blame me for wanting to know more about the people you associate yourself with these days, Glauca. They’re so adorable. You got yourself a nice little pack of pups there.” the blonde said, highly amused. “Are you training them properly? They don’t look like much.” “They’re good enough.” Drautos said, voice hard as steel.

The tall man turned towards him fully, folding his arms in front of his chest. “I was really surprised to find out about you working for the Feds. How did you manage that, with your record? Didn’t think you would climb out of that shithole you dug for yourself.” “That’s none of your business.” His brow twitched again dangerously and Drautos fought the very tempting desire to punch the man. Or move away when the other invaded his personal space – he could not stand that man this close. “It doesn’t matter anyway, does it? How does the saying go: a whore is a whore is a whore!?” “Takes one to know one.” the Captain quipped, defiantly taking one step forward, directly meeting the other’s gaze, unafraid. “Still snarky, I see.” “Get out of my sigh and take your stupid innuendos with you. I don’t have time to play around.” “Oh, but you should. We have so much to catch up on, don’t you agree?” Before the blonde’s fingers could come too close, Drautos wrapped his fingers around the thick wrist, squeezing hard to hurt the man on purpose. It was very satisfying when he saw the blonde’s expression falter for a moment. “If you want something, then tell me straight to my face, Arseny. Otherwise, keep that damn mouth shut. Now: enjoy your coffee.” Drautos let go of the wrist and turned on his heel, heading towards the meeting room they occupied. 

The remainder of the day was excruciating. Mainly because they had to revise their suspect’s behaviour profile over and over again. There was always one aspect that did not match the rest, sticking out like a nasty thorn. No matter how they turned it, something did not make sense: how did the killer keep his victims around and where would be the best possible location for that to not draw any attention. And how did he transport the victims without being seen. Why did the killer use so much over-the-top torture? They decided collectively, that once these questions were answered, they would be able to finalize the profile. 

When they arrived back at the hotel, they just barely managed to grab a bite to eat before the restaurant closed for the night. They did remain at the bar for a little longer though, chatting away and trying to switch off and relax before retiring to their rooms. 

As he stepped out of the bathroom, he found Ulric sprawled out on his bed, typing away like crazy on his phone, chuckling every now and then. Drautos rolled his eyes at that and walked over to his own bed, falling into the soft cold sheets. “Hey Captain.” “What.” It was not really a question, but his voice brooked no heat. Undeterred by it, Ulric continued: “This guy... eh... what’s his name. Kuzitov?” “Kuznetsov.” “Yes. That guy. He’s kinda dodgy, you know?!” The Captain nodded. “He’s an unpleasant character; always has been.” “You don’t seem to like him much?” “I hate him.” Well... that was blunt. “Then, why would he ask you to come here?” “Don’t know, don’t care.” “It’s just weird.” “Leave it, Ulric. We’re here to do our jobs and that’s it. And stop trying to interrogate me.” The younger agent faked a disappointed sob. “Damn, and here I thought it worked.” “There’s always next time.” Drautos said, slightly amused about the other’s failed attempt to pry out more information. “For now, use that brain of yours on our suspect and victims.” “Alright, alright, alright. I got it. We had a deal after all.” With a Cheshire cat’s grin on his face, Ulric looked up from his phone. “Don’t worry, Captain. I’ll get you the missing pieces and then we’ll play 20 questions, heh.” “We’ll see about that, Ulric.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy. :)


	48. ... and this even less?

When Sunday rolled around, they found the streets buzzing with tourists as if it were any other day of the week. It was not that surprising, considering the weak economy of the country. However, it did get into their way when it came to visiting the four remaining crime scenes. Two places had been broken into by burglars or homeless to be sheltered for the night. The chairs had been moved around and the white of the circle had been swiped over. There were too many traces everywhere, making it harder for the duo to find anything useful. They had to give up rather quickly as it was pointless to look for any new evidence weeks after the actual murders had occurred. 

The third crime scene on their to-do-list showed much more promise than any other before. Unlike the other five places, the one in Kamphong Thom was not a run-down, dirty house or shack. The body almost looked as if it had been dumped between the large containers. The white circle was not as meticulously drawn as the others. The whole surrounding seemed wrong and it did not match the previous locations. It had Drautos groan in frustration. “We haven’t even gotten started yet, Captain.” Khara said, smiling ruefully. “You know just as well as I do what this means, Khara!” the taller man rumbled and marched closer, ignoring the questioning look from the Lieutenant. “What does he mean, agent Khara?” “Oh, you know... it means we can start from scratch.”

“Oh.” the small man nodded, realizing what it meant for him. “That must certainly be inconvenient.” Khara let out a little hysterical chuckle. “No shit... whatever... let’s just do this.” And with that, the young agent walked over to the Captain who was already in a crouch, pulling his sleeves up, glaring at the poor chair like there was no tomorrow. “How likely is it that our killer simply didn’t have enough time to do it properly?” Khara asked, voice a little hopeful. “Non-existent.” At that, the younger agent sighed. “You want me to call Monica and the others?” “Not yet. Let’s finish here and then one more and we can get back.” After a pause, Drautos continued: “But do let them know that Arra can stop researching. Let him focus more on recent guerrilla or violent group activities around the crime scenes.” “Will do.” While the younger man walked off, the Captain looked at the chair. There were still scratch marks, but these were more severe. And strangely, there were also some other marks they had not seen before, or noticed; little black spots on the arms of the chair and the stiles – if that was not interesting. 

When Khara returned, they started working. “What makes you think about guerrillas, Captain?” Drautos did not look up when he replied, “It’s the only logical conclusion at this point. If we have a larger group of individuals, this will explain why we cannot find any trace of them moving around, depositing the victims in this particular way and the different marks left behind on their bodies. We have the fighting, we have the scratch marks, we have the hole and the tongue and here...” he pointed at the black spots. “... we have some burning.” “But none of the bodies were burned.” “That might be because we have not looked for it. We will have to return to the morgue and check the remaining bodies again, especially the one from this scene. He’s stepping up his game, changing things up.” Khara hummed thoughtfully. “This explains why we had so many issues with the profile. We tried to squeeze in multiple behaviours into one.” “Yes.” Drautos looked up and let his gaze roam his surroundings. “Our other killers don’t care too much about the whole set-up. They might think this is over-the-top, not understanding the rationale behind their leaders actions. The question is, why did this not show in the reports or on the pictures taken. Looking at this... I don’t even recall having seen any pictures of this scene.” “Your right. Now, that you mention it. There were none. We only had the close-up shots from the body, but none of its surroundings. And nothing on black marks, that’s for sure.” Both men exchanged a knowing look before the younger got up and walked back to where Lieutenant Bora was standing.

“Excuse me, but who took the pictures of the crime scenes? And where were they developed?” The small man looked up, surprise written across his face. “It was done by our unit. The Gendarmerie took the pictures and developed them at HQ.” “And who has access to those pictures?” “Every high-ranked officer. Why?” “Some of the pictures seemed to have gotten lost on their way to us, I’d say. It’s no biggie, but it’s a little annoying. Could’ve saved us some time and effort.” The small Lieutenant nodded slowly. “I shall strive to investigate this.” “No need, mate! It’s fine. We’re just wondering, you know.” Khara saluted the small man in a friendly manner before returning to the Captain. The man had moved on from the chair to the containers, evidently looking for something specific. “Every high-ranked officer has access to the pictures if they want to. It was all done at HQ, no external support.” Drautos nodded. “Which narrows down our suspects.” “You think that someone inside has done it deliberately?” “I can think of someone...” Khara regarded the taller man with a raised eyebrow but did not comment on it. 

Once done, they made their way to the final crime scene. It took them another two hours to get there, but it was worth it. Just like the previous one, this one showed the same sloppy pattern used to stage the whole scene. The sturdy chair was even more singed than the other one, confirming that they needed to seriously return to the morgue and look at the bodies one more time – the one time, Drautos had to do an autopsy himself, it had to be on the wrong body, it was just his luck. Strangely though, the Captain could not shake the feeling that they had been quite thorough in their analysis, despite not being trained medics. They certainly would have noticed burn marks. The younger agent kicked an empty can against an electric mast and he was about to tell Khara off, when...

“Khara. How can you burn someone without leaving burn marks?” The younger agent stared at the Captain with a confused frown. “I dunno?” “You can do better than that, use that brain of yours a little.” Drautos stated dryly. The man did as told, desperately trying to find an answer to the question, staring down at the water bottle in his hands. And then it clicked. “Currents. Electric currents? With water?” Drautos nodded. “Yes, there is also another way. Remember the white powdery substance on the body in the morgue?” The agent nodded. “If you use certain powders, they work just like water. No entry wounds, but perfect conductors. That’s why we didn’t find traces. We assumed the white stuff was dirt, but there may have been more to it.” “So what? They got electrocuted as well? On top of it all?” Drautos nodded. “Likely.” “This is so fucked up.” 

The Captain’s phone started vibrating in his back pocket and he pulled it out, putting it on speaker. “Ulric, what is it?” “Get ready for our 20 questions, Captain. I think I found the missing link.” Drautos restrained himself from swearing but he could not stop the scowl that forced its way onto his features, earning a questioning look from the other agent next to him. “We’re on our way back. We also found something.” “Cool. Bring food again?” “Might as well.” “Sweet. Talk later.” 

‘Later’ was three and a half hours to be precise. By the time the two agents plus babysitter arrived, the three other agents were at the verge of starvation. Drautos had looked his usual uncaring self, but Khara looked a little apologetic. They did bring food, though, including dessert and the trio dug in immediately. It was somewhat endearing to watch that, but Drautos’ trail of thought was cut short when he saw a blonde watching them in his periphery. There was still something he needed to do – might as well do it now. “I’ll be right back.” he said and left the meeting room, walking straight up to Kuznetsov, grabbing him by his biceps and pulling him into his office, slamming the door shut. The Gendarmerie and the Glaive kept stealing glances at the closed-off office once the muffled yelling started. 

“The fuck do you think you’re doing? I told you to stay out of this!” Drautos snarled threateningly, but the blonde just raised his arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “You withheld information. Some of the photos taken at the scene were not provided to us.” “And what makes you think it was me?” The Captain threw him a glare that spoke volumes. “Oh well... maybe I did, so what? I wanted to see how good you guys are.” “You don’t need to trial-run my agents, Arseny.” Drautos voice boomed, they would definitely hear that outside, but he could not care less. “So protective.” the other laughed out loud. “Don’t tell me you actually care?” The man’s voice grew cold. “I already told you, it’s none of your business.”

Instantly, Kuznetsov was on him. Despite having kept up with his harsh training pensum, Drautos lost the little grapple that ensued and the other man was able to lock his arm behind his back, pushing him into his desk with more effort than he liked to admit. Putting his weight on top of the Captain, he pinned him down. “It is. My. Business. Glauca, you are my business. You’re part of my platoon, so, you are mine. And you will damn fucking well do as you’re being told, soldier.” the man hissed back. “Leaving your platoon was the best thing ever happening to me, bastard.” Drautos snapped. “And yet you didn’t tell them. Tell me. What will happen if your pups find out? You think they would stay by your side? Or maybe this time it’ll be you they turn on!” “Threaten all you like. It won’t make a difference.”

The blonde chuckled darkly at that, his grip growing slightly weaker because of his shifting focus. “Maybe... maybe not. Or, maybe I should tell them what a good little slut you can be if handled properly. I’m sure that will do the trick. I mean, who wants to work for a filthy whore, right?” Drautos summoned all his strength when the other’s grip felt loose enough and pulled his arm free. It still hurt in the joint, but he quickly turned and hooked the man so hard to the side of his face that he dropped to the floor, taking a small table with him. A second later, Lieutenant Bora opened the door. “What happened? Sir!” He moved over to help Kuznetsov up, but the man just pushed him out of the way. Drautos stared him down mercilessly as the other wiped away some blood. “This is the last time I'm saying this: stay out of my business, Arseny.” With that, the Captain marched out of the office, but stopped short at the door. “Should you withhold information again, I’ll personally arrest you.” 

When he joined his agents in the meeting room, he just shrugged at their funny looks, took a seat and started eating. If there was one thing he certainly enjoyed about Cambodia, it was the food. He had ordered himself a nice bowl of Amok, enjoying the slightly bitter taste that came along with the curry – he was a sucker for good food, so what?! There was some commotion among the other agents before Ulric spoke up: “Uhm Captain. You okay there?” “I am. Also, Khara you were right. There was someone who thought it funny to keep some information under wraps.” The younger agent nodded with a hesitant smile. “Yeah, we could... kinda hear that.” 

Their lunchbreak was awkward, to say the least. The young agents fidgeted uncomfortably after having overheard the two men. They might not have seen what had happened, but they could connect the dots. Seeing that Arseny Kuznetsov practically threw the Lieutenant out of his office, the temple bleeding, said a lot. At some point, Ulric had mustered enough of his bravery together to ask what had happened. Drautos had simply shrugged, saying they had a small disagreement on the implications of withholding information. The younger agent had joked that he never got his arse kicked this badly when they had a disagreement to which the Captain simply replied that he did not hate them. Unfortunately, the sub-text of his comment registered seconds later and by then, it had already been too late – his agents ‘aaw-d’ at him with their big puppy-dog-eyes. Acting annoyed, he huffed at them to get back to work. They had a profile to prepare. And he was curious whether Ulric was able to deliver what he had promised. 

At nineteen-hundred hours, they had finalized their suspect profile and established the victimology. Lieutenant Bora was told to gather all those who were assigned to this case. Drautos could not hide the frown when he noticed that Kuznetsov was not among those people – which was weird. Not lingering too much on that, he indicated for Elshett to start and she nodded. “We’re dealing with a group of people. Each killer takes on a different role within this dynamic: we have the leader, meticulous and strategic; his ‘left hand’ if you want to call him that, who supports him in every way; and multiple ‘lower-ranked’ accomplices who do not quite understand their leader’s approach and rationale, but are too scared to speak up, or simply don’t care. Their sole purpose is to carry out their orders, so to speak. The leader has some sort of military training and is well educated – he must have lived in different countries as well. His intent is focussed on delivering his message through the kills. He puts much thought into the sub-text, he’s also the one selecting the victims. And he enjoys the killing. We think that he’s the one offering the victims a chance to fight for their lives.”

Khara stepped forward and continued: “The ‘left hand’ gives orders on the leader’s behalf when he’s unavailable. His task is to capture the targets. The benefit of this is that the leader will always have an alibi which makes it difficult to prove his involvement or identify him easily. The ‘left hand’ also maintains oversight of their base. He coordinates the other group members to carry out any orders given. They can range from watching the targets to delivering them to their locations and set them up properly, with chair, white circle and all to make the crime scene look the part. Those people don’t raise any attention because they are locals. We doubt that the leader and the ‘left hand’ are locals though.”

The agent stepped back and let Ulric speak up: “The mutilation of the victim’s bodies is part of the message. The extravagant set-up shows that they want to be found out. They want to be noticed. They also show that they have no regard for their victims as they give them something akin to hope that they could potentially survive this – even though it’s not true; it's a game. They fight for their lives, just to have that hope destroyed by being beaten into a pulp. Then, they are being tied to a chair and humiliated by receiving all sorts of torture. When the victims are ready to beg, they split the tongue; a symbol that they are not to speak of anything that happened – it’s considered a weakness, so they must remain silent. Once this is done, some victims are being electrocuted but not killed. We assume the electrocution is triggered by something special in those, we weren’t able to identify what though. The actual kill is done via the lobotomy. We think that one is for pure fun.”

There were quiet whispers going through the ranks before Drautos raised his voice, “The victims all have a tendency to visit the gym. They’re very focussed on a strong body, partaking in group-sports. However, the victims also show a tendency to quit easily if any obstacles are presented to them, rather than pushing through. In the eyes of the leader, this makes these men appear weak. They don’t follow the ‘strong body, strong mind’ principle. Our killer doesn’t take lightly on people who quit without putting effort into whatever they’re doing. He feels like they ‘betrayed’ their own principles and must be punished for it.” There was a hesitant hand raising itself into the air and the Captain nodded. “So, how can we find these killers?” “That’s going to be the difficult part. We need to find out from where they operate. It will be difficult to identify the leader, so, we should focus on identifying the accomplices. They’re more likely to make mistakes. Just like they screwed up the paint jobs at two scenes. We expect the accomplices to be uneducated and unemployed. They’re socially blunted, have no family, no friends. They don’t raise suspicion because they’re not paid attention to due to their low social status. And we also expect them to follow the ‘left hand’ around like dogs when outside of camp.”

There were more whispers before Drautos continued: “We’ll continue looking into potential locations of the group’s hideout. We doubt it’s within the larger cities. It’s more likely that their base of operations is somewhere isolated, difficult to access and separate from any active guerrilla groups; probably around the wet-lands.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm late.. I know. Work and training are a bitch lately... do enjoy, it's won't be getting nicer anytime soon.


	49. Run!

The Glaives were quite proud of themselves when they had left the RCAF premisses that evening. They had successfully released the suspects’ profiles and the Gendarmerie was now busy following up on any leads. What made the Glaives even happier was the fact that now their Captain had to play 20 questions with them. After Ulric had shared the information with Khara and him, Drautos had begrudgingly admitted to having lost the bet. As much as he wanted to keep his past under wraps, Kuznetsov had gotten under his skin earlier that day and it made him reconsider his point of view – perhaps it was not such a bad idea to come clean after all. Cor had not been too upset about it when he had told him part of it. Perhaps, there was a chance that his fellow agents would accept it as well?! If not, he could always let himself be transferred to another unit, even though that thought appalled him – yeah, that was not an option. 

They were currently sitting at the hotel’s bar, sipping at their alcoholic beverages – or in Drautos’ case: orange juice. “Captain... are you seriously not going to drink anything? You haven’t been drinking during the party either. What’s the matter, getting old?” Ulric asked boldly, sipping at his beer. The Captain just shrugged. “Is this an actual question you want to have answered, Ulric?” “Yes.” “No.” the agents answered all at once. Okay, perhaps this could actually be fun. His lips quirked up in an amused smile when the four started arguing among themselves heatedly. It took them a whole two minutes to finally agree, with Khara drawing the line. “We have rephrased our question: Why are you not drinking any alcohol as of late?” Oho, someone was paying attention! “I was asked not to. As I’ve been informed that a drunk me becomes too clingy.”

The four Glaives stared at him with disbelief in their eyes, then, they huddled together to discuss the next question – Drautos had to admit, this was getting incredibly hilarious, but he schooled his face to remain indifferent. Elshett spoke up next: “Are you and Leonis an item now, Captain; like all serious and official?” The Captain asked put-upon: “Weren’t you going to ask about Kuznetsov, rather than my current relationship status? And yes, we are!” The younger agents giggled amused and Ulric said, “These are important questions, Captain. We’ve never seen you with anyone since we joined – that's like... years ago.” “And we kind of might have opened up a bet on you being an asexual hermit...” Arra added meekly, earning a raised eyebrow from their Captain and a clap to the back of his head by Elshett. “Is that so? And now, that you know, who won the pot?”

The Glaives blushed and suddenly dropped their gazes, the floor had become quite interesting within one simple second. Drautos narrowed his eyes. “Ulric?” “The Bosses...” the younger agent squeaked without looking at him. “Un-fuckin’-believable. Regis bet as well?” “Clarus Amicitia too.” added Elshett’s quiet voice. Drautos shook his head, it all kind of made sense now. In hindsight, it was all there, plainly open to see. The little remarks, the pictures taken – those bloody bastards. “I’m going to have a serious conversation with our superiors, once we return.” he grumbled annoyed, but there was not enough heat behind his words to make it sound like he was truly angry. The four Glaives put their heads together once more and discussed their next question. He patiently sipped on his drink, while listening quietly. It took them another couple of minutes before they all agreed. “Captain, what did you do before you joined the FBI? You evidently know things that are quite... unusual. Nyx said you sewed someone shut.” For a moment, Drautos let his gaze wander over each agent, then he answered calmly, “I was a mercenary. You learn a lot of things while being one.” Ulric furrowed his brows and pulled the other's closer, whispering something. When the three nodded, he asked, “How does your military uniform fit into that picture?” 

Drautos scratched his stubbled jaw for a moment, thinking his answer through. “When you work as a Merc, you get to know military personnel all over the world. Sometimes, Mercs are being hired when the country’s military cannot be involved due to political reasons. Sometimes, Mercs are offered a permanent job within said military. It’s uncommon, yet, happens. Soldiers and mercenaries are a different breed and don’t really like each other, though. So, it’s rare for Mercs to stay within the legal force.” “Why?” “Because Mercs work for the money, they have no allegiance. One day, you work for Person A, the next you work for Person B who hired you to kill Person A. There’s none of that ‘honour above all’ bullshit the military is sprouting. The only thing that matters is the platoon. Once a Merc, always a Merc.” The last sentence made him grimace a little, but the agents were not paying attention to that anymore. They had already started talking animatedly among themselves again. 

Before any of the Glaives could ask another question, Lieutenant Bora hollered at them from the hotel’s entrance. He rushed over with too long strides and came to a halt in front of them, gasping like there was no tomorrow. “There was... another body...” he pressed out between breaths. At once, the Glaives were all back in ‘work mode’. “Where?” Drautos asked. “At the outskirts of Ta Tey Leu. The body was found hanging at a tree, though. But there was still a white circle and the victim is a male.” Muttering under his breath, Drautos and the others got up at once and left to get their gear. 

“You’re very certain it'll work?” the man asked quietly, as always, staring out the window, watching the people below run around, even at the late hour. “Yes.” “You sound confident.” The other man shrugged. “I know him. He’ll walk right into it.” The man at the window nodded. “I still don’t see how he could’ve pissed someone like you off, though.” “You should worry about your own business with him. Unless you want to die, of course.” He could hear the man behind him snort amused. “As if a cripple could kill me.” Not deigning that comment worth a response, he continued with his line of thought. “Just do what you have been told to do.” The man chuckled. “Just wait and see, you won’t be disappointed.” he said while heading towards the door. “We’ll see about that.” he replied to the empty room. 

It had taken them roughly seven hours before they arrived at the crime scene. Flicking his gaze to the SUV’s dashboard clock, he saw it was barely past oh-four-hundred hours. This was going to be a long day! Once at the crime scene, the agents stared at the dead body dangling from the tree with surprise and shock. Yes, there was still that stupid white circle on the ground, meticulously drawn as well, but the body... toes drawn upwards, a regular and unharmed tongue slightly sticking out, the body was completely mutilated by some sort of acid. There was also no hole in the head, instead, the body was missing its nose and ears. Drautos took a deep breath before stepping closer to the body. He could hear Arra call for him, but he just raised a hand, indicating for them to stay back. He could feel Lieutenant Bora stepping closer, whispering, shock evident in his voice.

“What is the meaning of this, agent?” “It means that our killer is inviting us to come and get him.” “But... acid attacks are quite common here, why would he change one thing to another?” “Because these kinds of attacks are more personalized. They are used to settling disputes more than anything. And the missing nose and ears just undermine that. It can’t get more personal than this. And he knows exactly that we know he’s been playing us.” The small man looked up, having to crane his neck to see Drautos’ eyes. “You mean, he has a score to settle with you agents? That makes no sense, how could he have known that you’d come here?” The Captain’s face darkened, his voice laced with utter hatred – how could he have been so stupidly blind? “Because he made sure that we’d be here.” And two plus two was four – the moment the Lieutenant connected the dots was very obvious.

He turned around and yelled something at the Gendarmerie and the men rushed towards their cars. The first Jeep was already about to leave when a grenade hit it in the passenger’s side and the whole thing blew up. The shockwave made everyone sprawl out of the way. Quickly, Drautos took in the state of his agents, crawling over to them. “Captain?” Arra’s voice was loud and a little shaky, a side effect from having stood too close to the explosion and not being able to hear over the ringing inside his head. His own ears were not doing any better and he had been standing further away – he knew how bad the others must have been suffering from it. 

When the second car went up into flames, Drautos got up. While the Gendarmerie and their assailants were busy shooting at each other, he pulled the agents away from their SUV. In his periphery, he could see the small Lieutenant yell orders while dodging bullets. “Get up! All of you. Move, move, move!” the Captain barked in a voice that accepted nothing but obedience. The first one up was Ulric, followed by Elshett, both grabbed hold of the other two, while Drautos grabbed an LMG from a dead officer, opening fire. Without turning around, the tall man commanded: “Ulric, get the others to cover. Behind the trees. I’ll hold your six.” The younger agent moved swiftly. Khara was limping, slowing them down as he had been hit by a stray shrapnel but pushed through stubbornly. They managed to get behind the first row of thick trees, the Captain continuously releasing one round after another. At some point the Lieutenant had joined him and they made sure to cover their retreat. 

Another grenade exploded and two officers were catapulted into the air, one hitting a tree, not getting up. The other pulled himself onto his feet and wobbled to take cover as well, shooting at nothing in particular, just trying to keep their assailants at bay. “Elshett, Ulric. Retreat into the jungle. Now. We won’t win this one.” “Captain, Khara can’t run.” the female agent yelled over the gunfire. “I’ll carry him.” Ulric said, already piggybacking their friend. “Then, move. Arra, make sure to keep close to Elshett. Do. Not. Let her get caught.” “But, Captain...” Elshett was about to retort but stopped short when she saw her superior’s glare that brooked no argument. “Run.” he said calmly. Arra wrapped his fingers tightly around the woman's biceps and pulled her away, following in the direction Ulric went. 

“My apologies, agent Drautos. Seems, we may have a traitor among our ranks. You should follow your fellow agents, I can provide cover.” the Lieutenant next to him said, smiling. “Ah, shut it, pipsqueak. You’re comin’ along. And after this, we’re gonna go out for a beer! Got that?” “Only if you’re buying.” “Naturally.” Both men took cover once more when another grenade blew up. Before the dust settled, they had started running. They caught up with the others relatively quickly, mainly because Arra had tripped badly and landed face-first in a swamp hole, needing rescuing. Wordlessly, Drautos had pulled him up and thrown him over his shoulder, handing Elshett the LMG. “Shoot to kill, agent!” he barked out and she nodded. “And stay strong.” he added after a moment, trying to sound encouraging. It did do the trick when he saw her posture straighten. 

Fortunately for them, the small Lieutenant knew the difference between solid ground and swamp holes without having to step onto it, helping them avoid any small patches they might have walked into and gotten themselves drowned in. It was, however, not that easy and they made slow progress in the still dark – the sun would only be up in two hours tops. Until then, they would have to stumble through the thicket, hoping that their attackers had similar issues to deal with. “Bora, how far away are we from the next village?” “Too far. It will take us hours. Even more so with those two injured.” The Captain nodded. “It’s not like we have much of a choice anyway; lead the way, Lieutenant.” 

The small group made steady progress but once the sun was up, they started slowing down. Unfortunately, they could hear their attackers close in on them. Thus, Drautos urged the others to move faster. Lieutenant Bora told them about a small bridge they needed to cross to get to the other side of the river and from there, it would take them another three hours before reaching the village – sadly, they all knew they were running out of time and Ulric and Drautos also started to show signs of fatigue from carrying the two men the whole way. Eventually, they were forced to take a break, giving both men a chance to catch their breath. 10 minutes later, they were moving again after the small Lieutenant had spotted someone trailing them close by. They made it to the bridge when their assailants caught up with them.

Forced to engage into another round of gunfire, Drautos, barked out orders for Elshett to get her ass over the bridge first, helping Khara while the others would provide cover. When they heard Khara cry out in pain, the Captain turned at once, just to have the barrel of a gun pointed straight at his face. Arseny Kuznetsov was standing on the other side of the bridge, smiling darkly at them, holding the poor agent by his hair, while Elshett was on the ground, twisting in pain. He could hear the small man next to him swear in local language and, for the first time since they met this man, his smile faltered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gen wants some action, :D i provide some action. Enjoy. :)


	50. To survive

They were standing in a row, waiting for the grunts to take their guns and phones off them, patting them down for any concealed weaponry. With disdain, he watched one of the men feel Elshett up, but the woman remained defiant – good. The young grunt who was about to pat him down was so intimidated by his glare alone, that he did not pay much attention to what he was doing, evidently trying to be done quickly and Drautos thanked whatever deity was on his side at that moment. 

They watched as the tall blonde paced left and right, arms crossed behind his back. Kuznetsov chuckled amused. “I honestly didn’t expect things to go this well. But...” he looked at the two injured men. “... I won’t complain. This makes things so much easier.” The man stepped closer to Drautos. “You and I will continue our talk from yesterday. There’s still some unfinished business we need to take care of.” Turning on his heel, the blonde spoke to one of his men: “Take Glauca and the others to base. And kill Bora.” The agents tried to move but there was little they could do as two men took the small Lieutenant, pulled him away and shot him in the head without any hesitation. The Captain closed his eyes for a moment, mourning the fallen soldier for a heartbeat before he focussed his pale blue gaze on the blonde man who once used to be his superior. He let the grunts wordlessly lead him over the bridge and onto a truck. 

The drive to the base was quiet, unpleasant and long. The small truck had to make its way through harsh terrain, the whole vehicle was shaking so much, it felt like it would topple over at any moment. When they were dragged from the truck into their makeshift cell in a small shack, Ulric tried to put up a fight but ended up on the ground with Drautos towering over him, shaking his head. As soon as the door had closed and the agents were alone, the younger man exploded into his Captain’s face. “What the fuck? We need to get outta here!” “We should, but you getting shot would be very inconvenient.” “I was trying to get us a chance.”

The Captain sighed exasperated, before he said, “Your little stunt would’ve achieved us nothing. Khara can’t run, Arra can’t even walk. All you would’ve gained us out there would be another dead body. Our chances are better from within this cell.” Drautos waited for the young man to think his words through. When he saw him nod, he continued: “Our priorities will be as follows: find a good way to get out of here, have Elshett escape, try not to die.” “Captain, why are you so concerned about me? It’s very unusual for you to be this adamant or protective.” the woman asked, her voice barely a whisper. “Elshett, what do you think people in this country will pay for a woman of your stature? For locals, you are an exotic treat and they will pay good money to get their hands on you. We get you out, you run and get help. We will handle the rest. Understood?” the four agents nodded, trying to not be too disgusted by the deeper meaning of the Captain’s words. 

Looking at the four agents made him grimace. They needed to come up with a good plan, and that quick! But first things first: “Try to find something to dress Khara’s wound with. We can’t have him get an infection in here. Arra, your ankle needs support, for the time being keep it still.” Pulling his pant leg up, Drautos pulled out the combat knife he had been carrying around since day one in his military boot, earning an impressed whistle from Ulric. “Woah, Captain. You had that thing the whole time?” “Yes. But we won’t be using it anytime soon. Only, if truly necessary.” That said, he hid the knife close to the wall, placing plenty of straw and rags on it.

Watching Ulric work on Khara’s wound, he continued, “I want you to understand what’ll happen next. So, listen carefully. They will come for us. They will torture us. But I need you all to stay strong. They don’t want information, they just want to get under your skin. Don’t let them, no matter what. Understood?” The four agents nodded again, this time more hesitantly. “You’re scared. That’s fine. Just don’t let it get the better of you.” Another round of nods followed. “Good, now: rest as much as you can. Things will only get worse from here on.” And with that, Drautos leaned his head back against the disgustingly warm wall, closing his eyes, recalling what he had seen outside; thinking about any potential escape routes. 

They did not know how long they had been in their cell, but it felt like hours. When the door opened, they all tensed visibly – except for Drautos, he looked more bored than anything. Turns out, it was just a grunt bringing them some rice and water. It was not much, but enough to stave the hunger. With food and water came another issue they needed to deal with: when Ulric started wriggling around, Drautos told him to go into the corner to relieve himself. It was not like they would get a bathroom-break or anything. First, it was highly awkward and embarrassing, but it was either that or wetting themselves and that thought was even less appealing – besides, the cell stunk of urine and excrements already anyway, so, it was not like it made any difference. When the night settled in, the five agents huddled together to keep warm; despite the scorching heat during the days, the nights were still cold. And Khara had lost too much blood to maintain his body’s function at a normal level – body temperature included. So, to keep him alive, they cuddled up around the agent to make sure he would stay warm. 

“You know, I don’t understand how we did not see it. He fits the profile nicely.” Ulric whispered. He saw Drautos nod. “I know. It’s my fault for not picking up on it. I was angry... and stupid. Thought he was just trying to get a rise out of me. Should’ve known better.” He felt Ulric shrug next to him. “It’s not your fault, not completely at least. Could’ve been worse, I guess.” “Really? You need to work on your pep-talks, they’re so shit.” the Captain joked, shaking his head in disbelief. There was a brief moment of silence, before Ulric spoke again, “What made him be so angry with you?” Drautos tilted his head in thought. “Once a Merc, always a Merc. You don’t just get out and leave your comrades behind. He didn’t take it well.” “Why did you leave?” “Ulric...” “C’mon Captain, humour me. It’s not like we’ve got anything better to do right now!” The taller man sighed – how true that was. “There was this hotel that was hijacked by some terrorist group. They took hostages. Our platoon was hired to go in and eliminate the threat. They were good. We lost men that day, and when it came to a head, they offered Arseny more money. Since he was in charge, he accepted the offer. It wasn’t the only time we did something like that.”

“So, you worked for the bad guys, then?” “That’s the life of a Merc. You go where the money is. That’s your number one rule. You don’t have loyalties outside of your platoon. Besides, there was no place I could go to – ties run deep within the platoon. Over time, it just became too much, though. And the military wasn’t that different either. Same shit, just different people in charge.” “Why didn’t you do anything about it, then?” “I was a regular soldier, Ulric. I was at the very bottom of the food chain, believe it or not. Took me years to work my way up, but I was not in charge and I had my orders.” That made the younger agent laugh a little. “That’s really hard to believe. Did you have to run errands too?” “Yeah.” And once again, silence settled in. “What’s it like? Growing up like that?” “Shit. The stronger one gets to have the last word.” Drautos replied truthfully. “You do what you must to survive, keep that in mind – always. They’ll never ask for your permission, they only take. Mercs are not nice people, Ulric.” he continued, unable to keep the resentment out of his voice and the younger man picked up on it. “If it helps any, I think you’re okay. For someone who keeps drilling us like there’s no tomorrow, you know.” “Yeah, we think so too, Captain.” came Khara’s sleepy voice and Drautos growled.

“Shut up and sleep. Idiots... all of you.” “Says the one who keeps talking.” That was Elshett. There was a light giggle escaping Ulric’s throat and the agents started shoving each other playfully before Arra groaned and swatted them against the back of their head as a sign to stop moving. After a minute of some more playful banter, they settled back into a comfortable silence, trying to get as much rest as they could; expecting the coming days to be hell. 

Judging by the light outside, it must have been early morning when the door opened. Three grunts walked in and provided them with some stale bread and water. One of the men had tried to grab a hold of Elshett, but she had stubbornly fought back and kicked the guy into the groin. The man had muttered something under his breath and was about to pull his gun when one of the other two grunts pulled him back, yelling at him. Afterwards, they had left. The agents spent the next couple of hours taking in their surroundings and brainstorming on how to get out of that place. It became quickly evident that the shack they were in was not just a makeshift cell but also functioned as their storage room of sorts. There was not much in the room to begin with, though. Some farming tools, a few fishing nets and several hampers with unknown contents. All items were also far from reach, so, it was not helpful. They wagered that it was simply to give their victims some form of hope to escape the place. Thus, the small group focussed on anything inside the cell. There was a small window barricaded with welded-on bars – in fact, the whole shack looked like it was put together out of necessity and repurposed to become a cell later on. They could work with that piece of information... somehow, just needed to figure out the finer details. 

Turns out, the shack also functioned as a sauna. With the scorching heat outside, and the way the shack was built, it heated up quickly and unpleasantly at that. At some point past noon, the three men returned with their guns at the ready, indicating for Drautos to step out of the cell. The Captain stood lazily and threw the grunts a glare that made them visibly reconsider any nasty ideas they might have had in mind, causing Ulric and Khara to chuckle quietly. The men led him across a dead field to a small building, all the while Drautos tried to carefully memorize the place and its people – to his surprise, there were also farmers and women around, working a small crops field. Reaching the hut, one of the grunts knocked and the voice of Arseny Kuznetsov could be heard. Drautos was pushed inside and the door slammed shut behind him. 

“Glauca.” The man beckoned him to step closer towards the desk he was seated behind. Unimpressed, Drautos took a few steps forward. “I see you’ve downgraded. From a platoon to a squad. What happened?” “Ah, you know. Political business. I do have a day-job nowadays. This is more... a hobby.” “Interesting choice of words.” The Captain returned Kuznetsov’s stare with the same amount of burning hatred. “You really think you’re getting out of this unscathed? That’s optimistic.” “I’d like to believe that, I’m a ‘glass-half-full' person.” There was a short moment of silence between the two men before Drautos spoke up again: “What do you want, Arseny?” “Answers. I have heard things; interesting things that made me curious.” Leaning forward, the blonde folded his fingers in front of his face, giving the other an assessing once-over.

“What. Do you. Want.” “I don’t take it lightly when my soldiers leave my platoon without my consent. And I believe, you need to be reminded of that.” “That’s it? A belated act of revenge? Isn’t that a little over-the-top?” “Oh, that’s not it. Not quite, at least. See... I have a friend and said friend asked me to kill you slowly and painfully. So, that’s what I'm gonna do – if it hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t even have found you, so, I actually owe him. Anyhow, I’ll make sure that by the end of this whole shebang, you’ll be begging me for a quick death.” Drautos nodded, refusing to let the man get under his skin. “Okay. What about the others?” “Oh, that depends on you, actually. The longer you hold out, the longer they’ll live.” The Captain sighed. “You always had a sick sense of humour.” The blonde smiled. “How about it? You in?” Drautos forced himself to return the blonde’s smile. “It’s not like I have much of a choice – I’ll play.” “But you do have a choice. You kill them yourself and be done with playing nice. Then, I’d let you live. I always have use for someone like you.” “No.” 

As soon as he had refused the offer extended to him, the blonde had called in his men who, in turn, had led Drautos outside to push him face-first into the wall of the small building. Kuznetsov grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. “We start simple: 50 lashes. To get you reacquainted. You know how this goes: if you drop, or make a sound, one of your agents will bath in acid, or worse.” He let go of the Captain’s head and stepped away. In his periphery, Drautos could see the blonde regard a small scourge whip lovingly. “You remember it, no? I do.” Smiling, he continued: “Discipline is something every superior expects of his soldiers after all. Begin!” 

The first hit came too quickly and Drautos had to bite his tongue to keep from groaning. He squared his shoulders, planted his feet firmly into the ground and pressed the palms of his hands against the wall before the second hit came down on him. Every time the discipline hit, he breathed out, glaring at the dirty façade of the building. The first couple of hits were bearable, his clothes alleviating the worst, but every time the cords connected with his back, they ripped off more and more of the fabric. When, eventually, the knots hit bare skin, he bit the inside of his cheek to focus on something else. Almost half way through, a stray cord hit across his hamstrings and he buckled, catching himself last second and getting back into position.

He could hear Kuznetsov laugh amused and stubbornly ignored the man. At 27 hits, his back had become numb. At 36 hits the grunt needed to swap with another. The last hits cut through the numbness he felt and he could not help himself when a painful grunt escaped his throat. The blonde started laughing triumphantly at that. “49, damn that’s close. I think your agents will be fine for now, but you... well... 49 isn’t 50. Use the salt.” Before his brain could even compute what was happening, there was a searing pain on his back and he dropped to his knees. Distantly, he realized that someone was screaming... no, he was screaming. Then, everything went black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Try to enjoy... :)


	51. There are no bounds to men's cruelty

The call had come through while they were in a meeting. Thus, Regis had declined it and focussed back at what the Board was currently discussing. Only after his phone had rung again and again incessantly, did he look at the display. He had excused himself and answered the call. The man on the other end of the line was difficult to understand, his English broken and every word spoken with a heavy accent. It did take the man several attempts to make Regis understand what he was trying to say. Once he finally did, the head of the Glaive rushed back into the meeting room and dragged Clarus out by his ear, uneasiness radiating off him in waves and more than happy to ignore the Board. 

“Regis... explain yourself! Dammit, wait... ow. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Clarus pulled himself free and glared at his life-long friend. “I just got a call from the Cambodian military. They said there was an ambush by a violent extremist group and they... they didn’t find bodies, but our agents are nowhere to be found.” Now, Clarus blanched as well. “Fuck dammit.” “We need to do something. We need to find them; get them back, Clarus.” Trying to stay calm, Clarus forced his brain to work out the next best steps. “We go back to the office and then talk to the remaining senior agents and see who’s experienced enough to go. Okay?” Regis nodded. “Okay!” They could handle this – no biggie! 

The idea was good, the implementation not so much. The only senior agents they had left were Libertus Ostium and Petra Fortis, making it painfully obvious that they really needed more people. They duo had pulled both men into Drautos’ office and explained the situation. Fortis had remained his stoic self, unlike Ostium who had broken down minutely – he was not ready to lose any more family than he already had. This was a problem. They could not send only two agents, that would not work. “Clarus, you go with them.” Regis said, biting his bottom lip worryingly. “I won’t leave you alone.” “You have to and you will. We need to fill in the ranks. I will battle the Board for additional manpower and what-not while you prove my point and will go get the remaining ones we have back home.” he said, calmly. “We’ll take Gladiolus and Ignis with us. They should be fine, hopefully.” “Yes. Yes... good idea! Godspeed, my friend.” 

When he woke, it was with the taste of blood in his mouth. He was laying on his front and when the biting scent of urine assaulted his nose, he groaned in disgust. “Captain!” Elshett scrambled over to him and placed a hand onto his head. “Don’t move, okay?” Ignoring the woman’s comment, Drautos tried to push himself up, but the pain on his back made him quickly change his mind. Groaning painfully, he let his body go lax again. “’kay.” he muttered quietly. “Captain, what happened? I mean, we heard it, but... the fuck? Why?” At times like these, Ulric was a serious pain in his ass. And that was what he muttered next: “Ulr’c, sh’t’p.” “What?” “He told you to shut it.” Elshett translated, a little annoyed with the other man. How irritating this was. A little pain like this should not keep him down. That was not acceptable. Drautos mustered all his strength and pushed up again, ignoring the pain by sheer force of will. With a painful grunt, he heaved himself onto his ass, propping his arms onto his knees, dropping his head. “This... was unpleasant.” “Some water?” Elshett asked, holding a... bottle?

Confused, he raised his head to look at it – see if it was really there and not just his imagination playing tricks. His frown must have said it all, because the female agent elaborated: “They provided us with five bottles of water and some actual food – yours is still there, but cold now.” Drautos turned his head slowly into the direction the agent had indicated, surprised to find some real food in a wooden bowl. “They brought it in after they brought you back, Captain. If that ain’t a coincidence, I dunno.” Ulric was too attentive for his own good and one day it would definitely bite him in the ass. Careful, the younger agent probed: “Captain, what happened?” “I told you yesterday. And stop talking. Your voice makes my head hurt.” Drautos muttered quietly and exasperated, he was in no mood to answer questions. He tried to take a glimpse at the window, but when he craned his head, the back of his neck flared up at once. “Fuck. What time is it?” he asked instead. “Late... you were out for some time. It’s already getting dark outside.” Khara replied. 

“How’s your leg, Khara?” The agent barked out a hysterical laugh. “No offence Captain, but your back’s a thousand times worse than my leg. They poured salt over it, we could practically smell it as it fizzled away in your blood while you were unconscious.” “Thanks for the graphic description... not something I needed to hear.” the Captain rumbled and drank the last bit of water that was in his bottle. He regarded the empty plastic for a moment, brows furrowed – what game was the man playing with them? Whatever it was, he could do it, he did it before, so what – how could it possibly get worse than this?! Focussing his attention on more vital matters, Drautos said, “There are two more buildings out there. One is Arseny’s office of some sort and the other must be the sleeping quarters of the workers and soldiers. There’s also some sentry towers here and there.” “Workers?” “Yes, Arra. There’s workers out there, tending the field and crops. I’m assuming these guys are keeping them around by force. Who knows what that bastard offered them in return. I could count at least 12 armed men.”

Pausing, Drautos took a deep breath. “He’s been hired.” “Hired? By who?” That was Elshett. “I don’t know. Didn’t say. Someone... a ‘friend’. Any progress on how to get outta here?” The agents scrambled closer and handed their Captain the bowl of food. “Actually, we were thinking about something. The sheet metal is relatively thin, maybe we can bend it enough so that Monica can crawl through. We’d have to dig a little into the ground for her to fit through, but it should be feasible.” Arra explained, pointing at the corner of their cell. “The metal is the weakest in the corners, it’s were both sheets have been locked together. It’s not really welded.” “Downside is, we’d need to find out where to hide all the earth we dig up. Another possibility would be to focus on the hinges of the door. The whole set-up isn’t very sturdy. If we loosen the bolts and screws, that should get us out of here too. Downside here, it’s gonna be loud.” Khara added thoughtfully and the Captain nodded. “We only have one try, so no screw-ups. Do what you must, use any opportunity that presents itself, no matter the consequence. Use the knife too, if necessary. That’s why it’s there.” he said, tearing into a dumpling. 

Once Drautos started feeling more like himself, he told the others about the layout of the base, using little stones and straw to indicate important locations. They realized quickly that their cell was located at the far-off end of the base, which could be exploited if they approached things in a smart fashion. They only needed to worry about the sentries. They also agreed that both escape routes had their own faults respectively, making both options less desirable and they needed a better approach. Contemplating, Drautos had told them that he had not seen guards outside their shack, presumably because Arseny thought they could not escape, or, perhaps because he was confident in his grunts catching them before they could get far. Either way, they needed to try. He did not trust the man, no matter what he said. There was also the little issue of getting shot if they got caught, but he refused to have that thought linger for too long – they would die anyway, if they stayed. 

The next morning came too soon for any of them. It was the same trio as the day before plus two more guys. The way they leered at their female companion was all they needed to see to know this would not end well. And it did not. When the guys tried to grab and pull Elshett out of their cell, a fight between the agents and the grunts ensued. Only the ear-damaging sound of a gun being fired in a small space made them separate. One of the men had released a round that had to hit the only metal bar at the ceiling to bounce off on and hit one of his comrades in the back of his head – the guy had dropped instantly. The grunts had thrown the door back into its lock and left the shack, leaving the body behind. Without wasting time Drautos patted down the man’s body, perhaps there was something they could use. He found some plastic cords, a screwdriver and some tape. “Please tell me you can MacGyver us outta here, Captain.” Arra said, voice laced with hope. “Sorry to disappoint, then.” the Captain replied, looking at the sparse loot sceptically. 

Turns out, dead bodies were not very compatible with high temperatures. Since the shack was made of rusty metal sheets, the higher the sun rose, the warmer it got... and the more the body started to stink. They had pushed the body against the bars of their cell and moved into the opposite direction, far away from it, lest they needed to get sick from inhaling those fumes. The body was only removed sometime in the afternoon, when Kuznetsov had returned from his ‘day-job’. This development told them two important things: firstly, the blonde’s grunts did not adhere to the man’s rules when he was gone and second, the man was out half the day, meaning that, in the event Regis would send anyone over, they risked running into him at the RCAF headquarters. The first was an opportunity, the second a problem. 

The agents had not much time to mull things over because Kuznetsov ordered them to be led outside to the dead field. When stepping closer, they saw a large white circle drawn onto the ground – it looked like it was some kind of fighting ring, there were multiple people standing about; talking, watching. The agents’ hands were tied behind their backs and then attached to a chain connected to a large iron ring in the ground. The first one to be pushed over the white line was Ulric – they released him and waited until one of the grunts joined him, a nasty smirk covering his features. It did not take to be a genius to know what would come next. Without much preamble, the man charged the younger man. The crowd started cheering as soon as their guy landed a hit on the agent.

Usually, Drautos would be worried about having an agent paired up against a mercenary, but seeing what the black-haired agent had been through lately, he was not worried at all – if they could handle drugged-up assholes, they could handle paid assholes. Thus, he watched with silent satisfaction as the young agent ripped the guy a new hole. He saw Ulric grab the man’s arm and throw him over his shoulder, twist around and dislocate the shoulder with one loud ‘plop’. At that, the crowd went silent, not a word to be heard and the young agent stared at them warily. Only when a stone hit his shoulder, did the crowd roar up again. Before anything else could happen though, Kuznetsov indicated for the agent to be removed from the field, whereas the soldier was executed immediately and the body dragged over into a ditch. That notion did not sit well with the Glaives, the hidden meaning not escaping them, when the blonde threw them an unpleasant smile. 

Next up was Khara. He was limping badly, but it was much better than the day before. Hopefully, it would suffice to survive the fight. The traitorous thing about hope was, it would not be enough to win a physical brawl, if the person lacked strength or any other vital attribute. Consequently, Khara was on the ground, getting his head smashed in. Drautos and Ulric had pulled at their restrains until they had broken loose and they had both body-slammed the man off their comrade. The only thing that stunt earned them was two more men joining their comrade and it was three against two. It took both men a huge amount of effort to win that fight – with their hands still tied, it was a miracle they had won in the first place, but then again, they had had worse. Besides, they had two deadly hitmen to deal with. And they knew they would never hear the end of it if those two ever found out they had gotten their asses kicked by three simple grunts. Yeah... that was not an option.

While both agents were standing protectively over Khara, Kuznetsov was just enjoying the show – he would drag this out for as long as he could before ending them; that was certain. When the three men were forcefully dragged off, their guards made sure to tie them down properly this time around. One grunt was even so brazen to throw Drautos face-first onto the dusty ground and put his boot right onto his back, keeping him in place. From this position, the Captain had to watch Arra get beaten within an inch of his life by a guy who was not just two heads taller but also much burlier than himself. The poor agent never stood a chance. Glaring at the blonde man, he knew exactly why. It was his reminder to behave. Things got even worse when the man pulled the agent’s pants down and violated him right in front of everyone, choking him until the body had gone limp. 

While the crowd cheered along, the four agents stared wide-eyed at the scene before them, unable to do anything about it. Unable to help their comrade. Unable to break free. Unable to ignore the sick laughter and disgusting sounds of skin hitting skin. Unable to keep that picture from burning itself into their memory for years to haunt them. Once the man was done, Arra’s body landed in the ditch next to the other – discarded in the worst possible way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sparring today... yey, real sparring, woop woop. :) that's pain that's actually worth having, lol. Here you go with another not-so-happy chapter. need to get through it though. oh well.... try to enjoy, I guess.


	52. It's time to call for reinforcements...

“I don’t know Regis. Nobody’s talking or cooperating. We’ve been sitting here for hours now, waiting for the man in charge and he hasn’t shown yet.” Clarus said, phone pressed against his right ear. “Yeah... I feel like that too. Not sure, though, let’s understand the situation at hand first before you do that, alright?” A tap on his shoulder brought his focus to his son, who pointed at the door. “Seems like we get to finally meet the guy. We’ll revisit this conversation later, Regis. Of course!” 

The door to the room opened and a tall, muscly guy with a large scar across his cheek entered. “Gentlemen, I’m Arseny Kuznetsov. Head of Special Region. I apologize for the delay, finding your agents is a priority of mine and there was a lead I wanted to follow personally. I hope your journey has been comfortable?” the man said, shaking Clarus’ hand without paying too much attention to the others. He took a seat behind his desk and regarded them for a second before continuing: “My sincerest apologies for the events that played out. It seems that the Lieutenant in charge was a member of the local guerrilla forces who got your men captured. We found the man’s body, seems he was killed during the gunfight, but we have yet to discover the whereabouts of your agents.”

Clarus threw the man a meaningless smile. “That’s why we’re here. We want to offer our support.” “As much as I appreciate the gesture, this is an internal issue that the RCAF has to deal with; without external involvement. We can’t have you go out there; we won’t risk any more agents to be taken.” “General Kuznetsov, I can’t accept us being excluded from this investigation. You have to understand...” “No, I don’t. But you’ve got to understand that I can’t allow it. It’s unfortunate that your agents have gotten involved but this is no international affair.” “It has become one as soon as our agents were taken by those people.” Clarus snapped, returning the glare the other man sent his way. There was a silent battle of wills before Kuznetsov leaned back into his chair. “I can’t help you, agents. You will remain here under surveillance. Don’t go out there on your own, otherwise I’ll lock you up myself for hindering a military operation. Let me do my job and you’ll get your four agents back. What you can do, however, is to focus on that case.” Clarus nodded curtly, narrowing his eyes a little. “Would you mind showing us what our agents were working on before they got kidnapped, caught, whatever?” “Certainly.” 

The four men followed the General to the meeting room the others had occupied. Their gear was still there and so were all other items they had used: a flipchart with dozens of notes and pictures of victims, some coffee mugs as well as a half-eaten meal which had started growing some unhealthy green fluff and many more notes sprawled across the large table. “You’re welcome to work in here and continue on the case. From what I know, your agents thought we were dealing with a group of people. It might be likely that those people were the ones who came after your men after all. If you excuse me; I need to return to my work.” And with that, Kuznetsov was gone. 

“So, who else thinks this was weird?” Gladiolus asked quietly and the other three men nodded in agreement. “He wants to find our guys but then refuses help and sends us to focus on a case. Odd, indeed. Look at what you can find, boys. Meanwhile, I'll worry about General Asshole out there.” With that, the four agents got to work. 

It was a surprise when his phone rang. So much even, that both men froze in the middle of their spar, staring at the device as if it were about to explode. Both looked at the caller ID for a moment before the call was answered and put on speaker. “Regis, why are you calling?” Cor’s voice sounded calm despite the exertion he had gone through while sparring. “Cor, we kind of have a situation. A bad one.” “What is it?” the hitman asked. “Titus, Nyx and the others... they were taken.” Both hitmen tensed, exchanging a quiet look. “Regis Lucis Caelum, you move your arse over to our house asap and then, we talk.” Ardyn said, voice a low rumble. “Yes, I’ll be on my way, I’m still waiting for a call from Clarus. I have sent him and a team over as a first response already. He’ll provide me with a status update in a few hours.” “Good. Bring everything you have.” Cor said and hung up. There was a moment of silence in which both men quietly communicated with each other before they left the training hall. They needed to be ready by the time Regis arrived. 

After the ruthless show of power, Kuznetsov had forced Elshett to fight as well. She had bravely stepped into the ring and fought with a fierceness that would make any father-mentor-friend proud, and damn it, the trio was proud of her! She had killed the man with the stone Ulric had been hit with before the grunt could do anything worse to her. The only reason she had not been at the receiving end of the angry crowd, was, because the blonde had ordered them to be returned to their cell without further ado; except for Drautos.

Apparently, they were not done yet. Before being dragged of, the three younger agents could see both men starting a staring contest that spoke volumes. The blonde looking more than pleased with himself, while their Captain had murderous intent written all over his face. It came as no surprise, that, once his cuffs accidentally slipped off as they released him from the iron ring, he was on the other man, trying to rip him apart. Just before the door to the shack had closed shut, they could see how Kuznetsov’s fist connected Drautos’ temple, knocking him out effectively. When their Captain was returned to them, he was covered in white powder, signs of abrasion around his wrists, body twitching slightly. He did not wake until way past midnight and then only briefly to find the younger agents huddled together next to him, trying to keep themselves and him warm, despite his injuries. 

The second time he woke, it was to the laughing voice of Arseny Kuznetsov. “... a great spectacle. The guy didn’t even know what had happened. One second, Glauca was there guarding him, the next he had plunged the knife right through the poor bastard’s chest, heh. Oh, that face was priceless. Ah, look who’s awake. How are you feeling, soldier? Me and your pups are swapping stories of your exploits. They still believe you’re on their side. That’s some masterful deceit right there. But you were always good at that, weren’t’cha? I mean, that thing with you and that woman and the building was wow. I really thought you’d died. You’re as durable as a damn cockroach.” Groaning, Drautos shielded his eyes with his arm. “Fuck you!” he rumbled, his voice still thick with exhaustion. “I tried to explain your pups that every man has his price. Given the right circumstances and pay, everyone would change loyalties. Wouldn’t you agree?” He could hear the blonde chuckle darkly – oh, how much he wanted to punch that man again; preferably to death.

“What do you want, Arseny?” “You haven't been listening, Glauca. I already told you: I’ll show your pups who you are and then, you’ll know what it feels like to be betrayed.” “They have nothing to do with me leaving. Just let it out on me and be done with it, if you must.” He did not want to sound so resigned, but he had not enough strength left to do much at the moment. “Can’t do, soldier. You used to be so good. These pups made you soft, shame on you.” Drautos could not help it but stare at the younger man, when he heard Ulric speak up: “You know, we do like our Captain the way he is. And nothing you say can change that. So, how about you fuck off.” Kuznetsov laughed at that, but he did get up nevertheless. “If you say so. I see you around later; first, I have to deal with some more of your friends. Seems they are missing you guys so, so much.” 

The three men were sitting in the kitchen of the safehouse, the two hitmen listening carefully to what Regis was telling them. Once done, he texted Clarus to see if he was available to talk – and his phone rang the next second. Putting his phone on speaker, he said, “Clarus, I’m with Cor and Ardyn right now, have you found out anything?” There was some silence and then some shuffling before they could hear the other’s voice. “Not much I’m afraid. And what we found isn’t pretty. We tried tracking their phones, but nothing. Also had a look at the case notes, seeing that the case and the disappearance are definitely connected. But we aren’t allowed to do anything. The Head of the Regional Headquarters is denying us any rights to investigate. On top of that, we think he knows more than he lets on.” “Why’s that?” “Because he was talking about four agents. Not five. And his voice was too calm and controlled when making reassurances. He didn’t even put effort into it, just handled it as any other event. Wanted us to focus on the case rather than our own agents.” Ardyn raised an eyebrow. “That’s mighty vague to draw a conclusion, don’t you think?” “Not really. For us, this behaviour is just as informative as solid evidence. Speech patterns do show a person’s state of mind. For example, mothers whose children get kidnapped and killed still use present tense. Only the culprit uses past tense when talking about said child. This was similar. It would take too long to explain all, just trust me when I say it makes sense to us.”

The maroon-haired hitman nodded impressed and even Cor understood a few more things now. “That’s how you knew I tried to play you, back in the cell!” At that, Regis smiled fondly. “We aren’t as stupid as we may appear, Cor.” “Yes, true. Anyway, our hands are tied. We can’t do anything without being watched around the clock. They even leave the Gendarmerie at the hotel to make sure we’re staying. Not to mention from our bathroom breaks. How are you holding up, Regis?” The man sighed. “It’s not easy to handle the Board and the Glaive, if that’s what you’re asking. I will certainly appreciate Titus’ and Monica’s work more when they return. But... on the plus side, the Board agreed for additional funding to get more agents.” Clarus hummed at that. “That’s something.” he said. “Now, that we have sorted that out. Can we focus again? I’d like to have Nyx back in one piece, preferably.” Ardyn said a little impatient and received a reprimanding stare from Cor. “No, that’s right. Sorry. Will you be able to help us with this?”

“Yes. But we do it our way.” Cor said. “Send all information to Regis. Regis, Titus said you had been called up directly and it was demanded that your team, he specifically, would work on that case – give us that phone number.” he continued and the elder nodded. “What are you thinking, dear brother?” The hitman looked at Ardyn. “Titus said there’s someone who might know him from before. If this has something to do with it, then we can be certain that someone is out to get him and by extension, the others.” At that, both, Regis and Ardyn looked at him suspiciously, but it was the former who spoke first: “He told you about his past?” “Some of it.” “And you didn’t tell me? Really?” Ardyn burst out, acting all shocked. “It’s none of your business.” Cor replied matter-of-factly, missing the small smile that splayed across Regis’ lips. Focussing back on the phone, the hitman leaned forward a little. “Stay at the headquarters, try to keep them distracted, especially that one guy. Whatever happens, we will take care of it; don’t get in our way Clarus! It won’t be nice.” “Indeed. We are coming to wage war and we will pave our path with the bodies of our enemies until the rivers run red.” “Yeah... preferably with a little less drama, if you don’t mind.” Clarus sighed through the phone. 

Fortunately for them, Kuznetsov had left them alone after his early morning visit. Drautos could see that the young agents were apprehensive and he understood why. Ulric had asked him if what the man had told them was true and he had to fight the urge to lie – it could have been so easy. Foregoing any form of proper address, his answer had been simple: “I warned you not to dig too deep, Nyx. You didn’t listen, you never do.” With that, he killed the discussion before it could even start. 

While Drautos was propped against the wall, wrecking his brain on how to get out of this situation, Ulric was trying his luck on the cell door with the screwdriver. Elshett in turn was busy with the sheet metal that made up the walls of the shack. And Khara was playing with the cord they had looted from the dead grunt the other day. They did not make any progress in that department and by the time the three grunts were back, Drautos just wordlessly squared his shoulders and followed them. When he returned after dark, it was by way of being dragged along by four men. When the grunts opened the door to throw the unconscious body into the cell, Ulric and Elshett seized the opportunity to tackle the men while Khara threw the screwdriver at the guy with the gun.

The struggle that ensued was short-lived and the agents successfully killed the men – the advantage of being underestimated and armed with a knife and a screwdriver gave them the chance to be victorious – thank fucking Karma for that. Quickly, Elshett put on one of the guy’s clothes and tucked Drautos’ knife into the belt. The clothes did look a little baggy, but they could not care less, they needed to follow through with this. Quickly. Khara made sure to hide Elshett’s hair in a headband to make her look more ‘manly’ and gave her his most encouraging smile. And then, she was sneaking out, leaving the guys behind, while heading towards the line of trees, not knowing which direction to go, but with one objective on her mind: to get help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it'll get better now... enjoy. :)


	53. ... they don't like other's to touch what's theirs...

They had found Arra’s body. It had been dropped gracelessly into a ditch as the side of the road. The body had already been nibbled on by animals when some tourist, who needed to take a leak, found him. Since the agents were not allowed to go anywhere without a babysitter, Clarus had insisted on Kuznetsov to accompany them. The man had only hesitantly agreed to it, arguing that he had “other work” to deal with. Eventually, he had relented, seeing how persistent the senior agent was. At the morgue, the blonde had received a call. At once, the man’s demeanour had changed and he had left without further explanation, ordering the Gendarmerie to take the Glaives back to RCAF headquarters, all the while unaware of the watchful gaze of said agents. 

When they finally had realized that something was amiss, it was too late already. The second-in-command had pulled Ulric and Khara out, ignoring the unconscious Captain and dragged the two men outside. They had strung them up against the wall and whipped them until they were out cold. They had not bothered returning them to their cell. The men were too busy following orders to track the escapee down. That was, what Drautos woke to: loud commotion and an empty cell. First, it made his heart race and he pushed his aching body up, panic rising at the thought that something might have happened to the others. When his gaze fell onto the blood on the floor outside the cell, the panic he was fighting just grew stronger, tightening his chest painfully. It took a tremendous amount of will to not start yelling. Unfortunately for him, there was no way to find out what was going on, all he could do was force that panic down where it had come from and wait. Sooner or later, someone would come for him. 

And come they did. A very angry Arseny Kuznetsov marched into the shack, opened the cell door and launched himself at Drautos. In his weakened state, there was only so much he could do when shoved into the wall with so much force, that it dented outward. “You still haven’t learned a thing, have you?” Kuznetsov spat. “You and your sneaky little pups. But, I’ll teach you.” Whatever had happened, must have been a blow to the blonde, consequently, it could only mean the three did good. “Do your worst, Arseny.” he snarled back, mentally steeling himself for whatever was to come. 

She did not know where she was going. She had simply made for the trees and, once protected by the shadows, run further into the jungle. She did not stop, no matter how often she tripped and fell; she got back up and continued. She needed to push, the dark her cover – if she made it until the sun came up, she could allow herself a break. 

When he was dragged outside, he finally saw Ulric and Khara. Both men were hanging about, heads dropped – they were unconscious, their backs covered in bloody marks. He could feel Kuznetsov’s breath ghost over his cheek when he spoke too close to his ear. “I don’t know why they didn’t run as well, but it won’t change a thing. We’ll find the woman, rape her and kill her. And you, will watch. Now, move!” the blonde pushed Drautos forwards. They walked past the wall and turned the corner and fuck him, that were quite the number of chairs. In any other situation, the Captain would have started laughing at the ridiculous sight that greeted him, but right now, all he could do was raise an eyebrow. “Impressive chair collection.” he snorted, even though he knew he should keep his mouth shut. It did earn him a painful jab to the kidney and he dropped to his knees.

His head was pulled back and a strong hand pressed onto his Adam’s apple. “Let’s see how long you can keep up that dry humour of yours.” Kuznetsov hissed and called some of the grunts over. The men pulled one chair out and seated Drautos into it, tying arms and legs to it – he knew what was coming next, oh joy. “No powder this time.” the blonde said. “Let it hurt properly.” The men nodded and made to plug him up to the car battery. Drautos kept his glare fixed on the other man, not giving him the satisfaction of showing any more weakness. The other just regarded him thoughtfully. “I really don’t get it, Glauca. You used to be so good, and now... look at you. You let yourself be debased so freely for other people. Why?” “That’s none of your business, Arseny.” “It is. This! This is a waste of your skills. You could do so much better.” “Not interested.” The blonde man huffed, propping his hands into his sides, letting his gaze roam their surroundings. 

After a long moment, there was a subtle change in the man’s posture. Something must have clicked, because when he turned to look at Drautos, there was a dangerous gleam in the man’s eyes. “Could it be that there’s someone else? Is that it? Did you find yourself a partner?” No answer was also an answer. Kuznetsov barked out an amused laugh. “It makes sense... hah. I can’t believe it. So, that’s what he was on about.” Muttering to himself, the blonde was pacing around, basking in his revelation. The grunts just as much as the Captain himself stared at the man unimpressed. Kuznetsov stepped into his personal space, a dark grin covering his features. “Didn’t think anyone would be interested in a whore, but... miracles do happen apparently. Tell me, does he know?” Despite not saying anything, his expression must have said enough as the other just grinned more. “He does. Wow. He must have very low expectations, then. Hah... well. That! Made my day now.” Removing himself from the chair, the blonde pointed at the car battery. “Let’s get this show on the road, guys.” he started, sounding way too happy. “Start slow and increase the voltage every... hm... 20 minutes. You know the rest, make it work!” 

When the first rays of the sun broke through, Monica stopped. Exhausted and shivering she leaned against a tree and slid down, closing her eyes. She was hungry... and thirsty, but she could not worry about that now. She would have to keep on moving. But first, a little break: she would get her breathing under control and then continue onwards. She did not notice that she dozed off. 

When he came to, it was with a jolt that made his shoulders hurt. Groaning, he tried to gather his wits. “Fuck...” “Captain.” That was Khara’s voice; why the fuck did he sound so relieved? “Yeah?” “Thank heavens you’re still alive.” “Unfortunately.” he muttered his response, spitting out some gooey blood. He did not feel very good. Oh, right... the others probably did not either. “What happened to you?” “Ah, we managed to get Monica out, Captain.” Ulric breathed out between gritted teeth. Drautos nodded. “Good. Yeah, that’s really good.” he sighed softly. “Good work.” The two younger agents sniggered at that. “You can count on us, Captain.” Ulric said, shifting a little to alleviate some of the force from his shoulders. “My shoulders hurt, though. Like... real bad.” “Yeah, mine too... and my leg.” Drautos managed to chuckle at that. “Shut it. I don’t even feel most of my body anymore. Guess, I win this round.” The other two joined in and chuckled as well.

“When we’re done here. Can we have a week off? Like, for real?” “Khara, when we get out of here, I’ll approve you three weeks of leave without complaints. I think you guys have earned it. Let Clarus and Regis handle the Glaive for the time being. That’ll teach them a lesson.” “Sounds good, Captain.” “I think I’ll lock myself into my room and won’t come out unless it’s for food.” Ulric said quietly. “And a bathroom break.” Khara added. “That too. And I’ll call Red for a good, thorough fuck and a massage. Like... fuckin’ hell. I demand to be pampered after this! This is worse than Hawaii.” “I’ll ask Monica out. I think that woman’s amazing.” Khara hummed, joining Ulric on his trip down fantasy lane. “Uh... you think she’s gonna go for it?” “I dunno, mate. But I can certainly try. What about you, Captain?” Drautos felt like shrugging, but that motion was impossible in his current position.

“There’s paperwork to be done.” That answer prompted the other two men to groan disapprovingly. “Seriously, Captain? No quality time with that handsome boyfriend of yours?” Drautos caught himself doubting that he would actually make it home. He could feel his body at the verge of breaking. It would not take much more before he caved. He did not want to think about Cor right now. It would make the inevitable only worse. When he did not reply to Ulric’s teasing, the man called him out by his name and the Captain returned his focus to the here and now. “Perhaps.” he replied and that was it for him, especially, since he could see Kuznetsov march over to them in his periphery. 

The man came to a halt in front of him, giving him an assessing look. “You’re awake. Good. Then, we’ll continue.” Without any further ado, the blonde started laying into him, each punch hitting painfully hard into the softer parts of his body. With his arms tied over his head there was nothing he could do to lessen the impact. Not even breathing out and tensing up helped. He just had to endure. 

Monica jerked awake and looked around, panicking a little. She had fallen asleep – not good. Looking up, she saw the sun had moved past its zenith. It must have been past noon. Muttering a few curses under her breath, she got up and looked around, perking her ears up in hopes that she could hear something; anything that would help her find the right direction. And she did hear something: it was very quiet, far away, but it was there... some noise. 

Thanking whatever deity favoured her, she started moving into the direction she assumed the noise coming from. She walked quickly, slowly increasing her pace until she was running when she was sure that the noise was growing louder. As soon as she saw a clearing, she started sprinting... and almost tripped when she broke through the wall of trees onto a road – a highway. She could hear a horn sound and turned around, just to see a car slide across the tarmac, drift around by 90 degrees and come to a halt mere inches in front of her. She almost cried when she saw the two men inside the car stare at her with surprise. “Thank you... thank you... thank you...” she said and walked around to the driver’s side to open the door and hug the man behind the wheel. “And we haven’t gotten even properly started yet, love!” 

It was a couple of punches, then electroshocks, then more punches and more shocks. At some point it started getting almost boring and Drautos did not even bother anymore. He knew there was internal damage; he was surprised, though, that not one single bone felt broken – that was impressive. But those wounds on his back would scar and those around his obliques. If he was lucky, he would not be ticklish anymore. Cor would probably hate that. Well, if they kept at it, he would not have to worry about that any longer. Then, they could just throw him into that ditch. Cor would probably hate that even more... and he should probably focus! 

A particularly strong shock pulled him out of his musings. “No drifting off, Glauca. You stay here with us, you hear me, soldier?” “Fuck... you.” Drautos muttered, almost choking on the blood in his mouth. Kuznetsov just huffed amused. “You know I’m not into that stuff.” He leaned in a little closer, so, that only Drautos could hear him. “But you do know what I like. Provide and I might be inclined to show mercy to your pups. How about it?” He would have loved to just throw up into the blonde’s face because he was so close to spewing his guts; one more shock and that would be it, he knew. But the prospect of having his agents be released from this wall was an incentive. “Release them. And I’ll... blow you as often... as you want.” If he was lucky, he was going to drown on his own blood first.

The man chuckled darkly and stepped away. He waved at the men and they moved at once, releasing the two agents, wordlessly carrying their barely conscious bodies back to the small shack. When Kuznetsov released his arms, he dropped unceremoniously to the ground, his shoulders aching from the sudden movement. Groaning painfully, Drautos shivered at the tingly feeling of blood returning into his limbs. Towering over him, the blonde regarded him for a moment before he kicked him. “Move, whore.” he said and watched as the other scrambled to his feet and wobbled towards the building door. 

Once inside, Kuznetsov pulled his chair out from behind his desk, took a seat and waited patiently until Drautos dropped to his knees right where he was expected to be. The Captain tried to open the man’s fly but his hands were shaking so much from the residue electricity coursing through him he could not get his fingers under control. “Aw, seems like you’re a little twitchy. Too many shocks, huh? Let me give you a hand, then.” With deft fingers, Kuznetsov pulled the zipper down and released his cock from his confines, making Drautos cough in disgust – the man was turned on by this, of course. “Now, be a good whore and get to work.” Resigned, he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm behind everything... waah... busy work, busy training... busy writing... i stop blabbering, do enjoy! :)


	54. ... and they get angry when they do!

They watched quietly as the two agents were released from their chains on the wall and dragged into a small shack while the Head of Special Region stayed behind with Drautos. When the Captain dropped to his knees, just to get up again and disappear with the blonde inside the building, they moved. 

They first took care of a small group of scouts, easily overpowering and killing them mercilessly. Next, they made their way over to the sentries, making sure not to be seen while climbing up the small towers and dispatching the men in there. He could see his brother work his way towards the shack and whistled lightly. The maroon-haired hitman chirped back before ducking away as a couple of men made their way past his position. He fell in-line behind them and killed them swiftly. 

“E lok!! Tae anak kampoung...” The man did not get to finish his sentence as the Wakizashi went right through the man’s throat. Cor pulled the sagging body up and out of sight before making his way down the sentry tower. Quietly, he pulled around a set of thick bushes and crept up on two grunts who were smoking behind the building – this was way too easy for either of them, none of these men were trained well. He slit one man’s throat, but before he reached the other, the man released a shot, finger twitching in shock and surprise. It did not hit him, but it was enough to raise the alarm. Snarling, he went in for the kill before he could hear an amused whistle. Rolling his eyes, he continued on his way towards his actual target. 

“You hear that?” Ulric asked, covering Pelna’s mouth with his hand, straining his ears to listen. “That was a gunshot.” “Mhmm mh hm hnmm muhmmhmm...” “What?” Taking his hand away, Nyx tilted his head. “I said: what do you think happened?” “Eh, no clue? But...” There was another shot, this time a little closer. People started yelling, then shooting some more and suddenly, the door burst open. One of the grunts looked inside before disappearing again, yelling something they did not understand. They could hear a man scream before a body landed between the hampers and the items that were propped up outside of their cell.

Next, a man walked in, sheathing his Wakizashi in its saya; he was clad in black, making the maroon-coloured hair stand out more than usual against his pale skin. Nyx squealed pathetically as Ardyn gave them both his warmest smile. “Ready to go home, boys?” he chimed, but before he could step any closer, there was another guy rushing through the door, attacking. The hitman’s smile dropped and he turned around, pulling his short sword out again just to bury it inside the man’s chest. He stared the man into his brown eyes as he breathed his last. There was not an ounce of regret he felt as that man died. 

Turning around again, his smile was back on his lips. “Let’s do this again, shall we? So, ready to go home now, dears?” he chimed and held up the keys to the cell’s door. “Yes, yes, yes... Red, I could kiss you.” “Mabe later, darling. First things first. We’re getting you outta here.” “Who’s ‘we’?” Khara asked, ignoring a bouncing Nyx. “Oh, you know: Cor and I got roped into saving your pretty arses. And just so you know. We picked Monica up after she practically threw herself in front of our car. That was quite a brave stunt you guys pulled. We’re very impressed!”

Ardyn opened the door and instantly, Nyx was on him, hugging him tightly. He could hear the agent whisper a quiet “thank you” into the crook of his neck and the maroon-haired hitman allowed himself a moment to hug the smaller man back. “It’s okay. Now, bucker up, buttercup. We still have to get you outta here safe and sound and kill the rest of these nuisances.” “Ardyn. We need to get the Captain, he’s still out there.” the other agent said, grabbing a rake to support his weight with it. “Cor’s on it. Now, let’s go.” the hitman sing-songed and made his way back outside. 

Taking in his surroundings, the three men could see Cor cut through the enemy lines like a knife through butter. It was aesthetically nice to watch, but, at the same time incredibly intimidating. They had not seen the hitman fight before, not like this. It only made it clearer that he, and by extension Ardyn as well, were by far better trained than the Glaive at any point in time since they had crossed paths. The hitman looked like he was some demon that not even hell wanted to keep locked up – not that the agents would complain about it, right now, it was a welcomed sight. When Cor’s gaze landed on the three men, he threw Ardyn a pointed look. “Mind helping?” “Why? You seem to be doing just fine.” Yet, the other hitman drew both his short swords and joined in. Back-to-back, both hitmen were an even more dangerous force to deal with and the agents decided to stay clear of their path. Instead, they armed themselves with guns and started firing at anyone who even dared to point a gun at any of them. 

When the first shot rang through, he froze just to have his head pushed down forcefully; the cockhead hitting the back of his throat unpleasantly. “Continue.” came the raspy order and Drautos forced himself to comply, trying to think about anything but the disgusting feeling of the man’s cock in his mouth. When Kuznetsov grew impatient, he pulled at his hair, starting a rhythm on his own. Drautos gagged violently as he could not stop himself from breathing in some blood – the blonde had punched him straight in the face after he had started blowing him, ordering him to put more effort into it; since then, his nose had been bleeding profoundly, making it difficult to breathe properly. Well... if Kuznetsov continued like this, then, that would be the least of his problems as he was about to lose consciousness as it already was.

With the second shot came also the yelling and with that, someone burst through the door, saying something in a language he could not understand. Kuznetsov growled angrily and pulled Drautos off his cock, smacking his head hard against the corner of the desk. Distantly, he could hear the other man bark out some orders. Before he left the room, however, the blonde made sure to plant his foot a couple of times into the Captain’s gut, just for good measure to make sure he stayed where he was. And probably because the guy thought it was fun – as if Drautos would comply... 

Slowly and with blurry vision, he rolled onto his front and crawled towards the door, just to be intercepted by a grunt. The man pointed the gun at him and all he could do was feel angry about himself for not being able to see his man again – a fierce lion with deep blue eyes that looked at him as if he were worth something. But... who lived by the gun, died by the gun! 

They saw Kuznetsov exit through the door, walking towards them, firing his pistol, but the shot missed Cor by quite a stretch. The hitman snarled and cut his way through the grunt towards the man. Instead of remaining still, the man fired another round and missed again when the hitman evaded smoothly. There was a man that rushed Cor from the side and he stepped aside easily, cutting off the man’s outstretched arm with deadly precision. At that, Kuznetsov froze. He connected some dots and started swearing when his eyes met the other man’s deep blue. “You did it, didn’t you?” Cor did not know what the blonde was talking about, but he, frankly, could not care less. He turned around slowly and reset his stance, bringing up his two Wakizashi, clinking the kashira together. The other man let out a primal sound before he pulled out his combat knife and attacked. 

This was not a fight, had not been from the beginning – it was a simple execution. He usually was not one to play with his targets, but the hitman made sure to show the difference in skill to the other man; mercilessly. Every strike, kick or punch, he blocked easily or evaded. Cor blocked another strike before finally attacking himself, his blade grazing the man’s throat, leaving a thin red line behind – the distraction. And the man easily fell for it, pulling his arms further up, leaving the rest open. Rather than taking that opportunity, the hitman continued his 360-turn, went into a crouch and the second blade hit the man in the back of his knee, cutting through the ligaments there. With a surprised yelp, the blonde stumbled backwards and fell onto his ass, hissing in pain. That was it – simple yet effective, then man could not walk, he would not get away now, just needed to be killed.

Cor silently got up and walked over, intent on ending the man’s life, when he saw a grunt train a gun on someone inside the building. He permitted his eyes to stray from his target to see that the man on the floor was none other than Titus Drautos. He did not have to think twice about which option was his priority when his body moved automatically to kill its target. 

The shot made him flinch and it took him a heartbeat to realize that he was still breathing; shaky, but breathing. When he looked up, Titus knew why: the man had a blade sticking out of his mouth and another had literally impaled his LMG and pinned it against the doorframe. The body was forcefully shoved out of the way to reveal those beautiful deep blue eyes he just had silently begged for to see one last time. Either Karma really hated his guts and thought it funny to torture him like that, or the owner of said eyes was really there – but that begged the question of ‘how’!?

Any doubts he had, though, were eradicated when Cor sheathed his weapons, crouched down and pulled him out of the line of fire, pressing him against his heaving chest. “You don’t get to die. You’re mine.” the hitman snarled possessively and all Titus could do was laugh; desperate and a bit too hysterical as if he did not believe what had just happened. He dug his fingers into the hitman’s thin Kevlar vest, holding onto him like a drowning man onto a life-line. He kept on laughing and Cor did not stop him. When Drautos breathed in some more blood, his body finally gave in: he violently pushed himself away from the other man and threw up. All the food, all the bile and all the blood landed on the dirty ground. He continued heaving even when there was nothing left inside. 

Titus could feel a finger gently hook itself under his chin and turn his head around. His eyes automatically locked onto those blue orbs and he felt himself calm down instantly. He did not care as he allowed himself to surrender to weakness for just once in his fucked-up life and moved to wrap his arms around the hitman, hugging him tightly and pressing his head against the side of Cor’s neck, breathing in the man’s scent. He barely registered the hitman’s hands coming up and around his back to return the hug. 

There were no tears, passionate kisses or romantic words shared like Hollywood always showed in its movies, it was simply quiet for a long moment before Titus removed himself again from the other man, back in control and grounded. He wiped at his bleeding nose with the back of his hand and exhaled deeply, clearing his throat. Cor regarded him for another moment before he pulled out a familiar-looking combat knife. Taking the knife back, Titus let the handle fall into his palm as if it had always belonged there. “We’re not done yet.” the hitman said calmly. The Captain snorted and spit out some more blood. “I think they fried my innards this time.” he muttered and got up. He wobbled badly and Cor swiftly supported him, pulling his arm over his shoulders – his mask of indifference still perfectly in place, even though his deep blue eyes spoke a different language. 

When both men exited the small building, Ardyn and the others had some grunts and Kuznetsov sit on the ground, clutching his bleeding knee joint, two guns trained on him. The man looked furious, the muscles in his jaw moving under his skin, proof enough that he had not expected events to play out like this. He snapped his head around and glared at Titus. “You’ve got interesting friends, Glauca, I give you that.” Unimpressed, the Captain asked, “Who put...” He did not get too far as another piece of gooey blood made its way down his trachea and he had to cough. Spitting it out, he started again: “Who put you up to this – who’s your ‘friend’?” “What do you offer?” Before Titus could reply, Pelna did: “How about a quick death for starters, asshole?” He could see Nyx nod in agreement, but all those two received was a dark amused chuckle. “I have valuable information, pups. You shouldn’t be so quick to flaunt around the prospect of death.”

“You can walk, is that enough?” Instantly, all eyes were on Titus, but he just stared at the blonde on the ground – he needed to remind himself that they could not do it. It was not their place, no matter how much he wanted to. There were other ways! The man’s glare turned into a small smile. “Eh, Captain... can we vote on this?” Ulric asked, a little unsure about his superior’s sanity. “No agent will harm you, Arseny. Now: talk, before I remember what an absolute bastard you are and let the ‘pups’ loose.” There was a moment of silence and then, Kuznetsov spoke, “The Immortal.” Titus could feel Cor tense next to him. Evidently, that was an answer nobody had expected, and it must have shown on their faces as the blonde hummed. “Yeah, you pissed off the wrong people, Glauca. I still don’t understand how you managed to alleviate him off his limb, though. Even though, right now, I’m not sure it was you.” “That wasn’t me.” “Interesting, then, do tell how you managed to piss off that man?” Rather than him, it was Cor who answered the question: “He hasn’t. I did.”

And two plus two was four. Titus shifted slightly and pulled his arm from the hitman’s shoulders. Gripping the blade tight, he stepped forward, ready to finish this – understanding dawning on him as to why they were here; screw the fucking law, he would take care of this himself. His arm was pulled back by Cor and he looked over his shoulder. The hitman shook his head. There was a moment of silence before Titus turned and pressed the knife against the man’s chest. He leaned down to have their foreheads touch. “I can't let him go.” he muttered quietly but the anger was audible. Cor shook his head. “He won’t go anywhere. He’s my target.” 

Ardyn chirped amused and clapped his hands excitedly as Cor walked over to Kuznetsov. “Oh, darling, you've got no idea who. You. Are. Dealing. With!” The blonde threw him a questioning look, and the maroon-haired hitman continued: “See, my brother over there is our resident Immortal. The old man you met, was our mentor, Gilgamesh. The two didn’t part on the friendliest terms, and daddy-oh kinda lost an arm in the process. And now... here you are, torturing his boyfriend like there’s no tomorrow. This really doesn’t give you any kudos, if you get my drift!”

And once all dots connected in Kuznetsov’s head, the five men could see the blonde go as pale as death itself. He watched as the hitman crouched down in front of him. “You... and Glauca?” Oh, he was so incredibly and utterly screwed, was he not? “But... he said no one will harm me?!” There was definitely fear in that voice now. “No, he said ‘no agent will harm you’. I’m no agent.” The blonde got his hands around the other’s gloved one to stop the blade from pressing into his gut and cutting a long line into it, all the while keeping his grey eyes connected with those deep blue orbs that held no kindness for him. When the man’s guts started to fall out, Cor removed himself and returned to Titus’ side, who gladly supported his weight on the smaller man once more.

He coughed a little before he spoke, “You didn’t ask where he met Gilgamesh?” “Wherever it was, I’m certain he is long gone by now.” “’kay... by the way. You might wanna hold on tight... I think... I’m about to pass out now.” Before Cor could say or do anything else, the taller man sagged against him and the hitman just barely managed to catch him before they both dropped to the ground. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> done. :D enjoy.


	55. Reprieve

The hitmen had remained with them until they could hear the choppers, taking care of any still living grunts – they refused to let anyone live, not after what they had done. Even though Nyx and Pelna were not too happy about the merciless execution, they really had no valid argument to stop them. Once the choppers were in sight, they left behind a beautifully designed bullet cartridge, to make sure everyone knew what had happened; that Gilgamesh knew what had happened. Then, they retreated to hide in the shadows of the trees, silently watching as Monica, Clarus and Libertus jumped out to run to their friends. They stayed until the paramedics stuffed them into the larger helicopter and left for the next best hospital. Now, all the hitmen needed to do, was make their way back to the shabby motel they had booked themselves into and wait. 

The 'click’ of a camera taking a picture pulled the young agents’ attention to him and Clarus shrugged. “I need to send proof to Regis that you guys are alive.” he said, smiling sadly. “I’m sorry about Axis Arra. We’ll make sure to give him a proper burial.” “We’ve lost a lot of people lately, Boss.” Ulric said tiredly; their superior nodded. “We have. And I don’t know how to move on from here. But we’ll figure it out, guys. That’s a promise.” Khara hummed, not bothering to open his eyes, burying himself further into the blanket. “The Captain promised we’ll get three weeks of leave after this, Boss.” Clarus had to laugh at that – nobody could say these kids did not have their priorities right. “I think he’s right about that. First though, let’s get you guys out of this flying death-trap and into a hospital and then, home.” When his phone pinged, he chuckled and turned the screen around for the others to see: it was a picture of the Glaives waiving at the camera, smiling happily. “They can’t wait to see you all.” At that, the four agents laughed. 

It took them an hour before they arrived at the hospital, with the injured agents and their Captain being carried-off to the Emergency Unit to have their wounds treated and, mostly, sewn shut. Throughout the whole ordeal, Drautos had been out cold. First, the nurses thought he had died on them, pulling out a portable defibrillator, but when they heard some soft snoring, they just threw their hands into the air, disbelief written all over their faces, muttering something in local language. Clarus and the others could not hold back the laughter as the tall man made himself comfortable on the stretcher and continued sleeping on his side, arm tucked under his head. Just as always, Clarus made sure to add this picture to the slowly increasing pile of blackmail material Regis and he were working on when it came to one Captain Titus Drautos, the bane of any agent working for the Glaive. Despite the situation, they all allowed themselves a moment of respite and fun, knowing, it would do them a whole world of good. 

When he woke, it was to a face full of pillow. There were some distant voices, evidently talking, but he could not make out who it was or what was said – frankly, he did not care. Dazed, he tried to roll onto his side, but when that did not work, he started moving his hands. Only then did he realize that he was laying on his front. He grunted and forced his legs to move, awkwardly shifting until he was propped up on all fours before dipping to the side and finally ending up on his ass in a somewhat upright position. “Damn, Captain, you move like you could do with a good deep-tissue massage. You just looked like an elephant giving birth.” Taking in his surroundings, his gaze fell onto Nyx. The man was propped up in a bed next to his own, smiling. “Naturally, my hell would include you as one of the means to torture me further. How else could it be?” he said drily and the other just sniggered at that.

“Not quite. You’re still alive, just in a hospital.” The Captain nodded at that, letting his gaze wander. He found Pelna in a bed on the wall opposite to him, flicking through the pages of what looked like a storybook. Monica was sitting on a chair next to his bed, returning his gaze. “How you feelin’, Captain?” “Like a roasted boar. Where are we?” “We are at the Royal Phom Penh Hospital, sir.” He nodded and watched quietly as the woman got up and headed for the door. “I’ll let the nurse know you’re awake. The Boss and the others are still busy cleaning up the remains of the mess at RCAF HQ, but they promised to visit later today.” Another nod. Still partially asleep, Titus let himself drop backwards into the pillow but jolted upright again when his back hit the sheets. Muttering several curses under his breath, he tried to grab at whatever had just made his skin pull uncomfortably. “Captain, you shouldn’t do that. They had to stitch your back together properly. They said you should be sleeping on your front for a few days.”

At once, he pulled his hands back into his lap, looking at Pelna. “What happened?” the younger man shrugged. “You were out cold while the doctors stitched you up – they didn’t even need sedatives, that’s how far you’re gone. Gave them a proper scare as well when they thought you’d died and then, turns out you were just asleep.” “And snoring. That was priceless, Captain.” Nyx added, laughing amused at the memory and Pelna joined in. “Laugh it up...” he muttered unimpressed. He was still too tired to deal with this properly or able to wrap his head around it in the first place. Trying to wake himself up, he rubbed his hands across his face. When he felt his thick beard, he said, voice laced with surprise, “I need to shave” which earned him another round of giggles. “Always work and no fun, Captain. Don’t worry, you look fine. Makes you less grumpy and so much more handsome. Almost dashing!” “Ulric, should I ever be interested in your fashion recommendations, I'll shoot myself first.” he stated bluntly, making the other man just laugh harder. Fortunately, Monica returned before Titus could find something to hurl at Nyx’s head. And even better than that, she carried a tray of food which she unceremoniously dropped into his lap – his stomach appreciating the sight of food with a loud rumbling. 

A couple of hours passed before Clarus and the other agents showed up. In the meantime, Titus had been probed and prodded by the nurses to make sure he was well. All the while, the man had tried to swat away the irritating fingers as they went over his back. It had made the other agents laugh and not even an angry huff plus threatening glare made them shut up. So, when the others arrived, he was glad that he was not the focus of Nyx’s and Pelna’s attention any longer. Well... that worked exactly for 10 minutes before Clarus showed him a picture of him laid out on a stretcher, curled up in foetal position, sleeping. With a loud “fuck my life” he had buried his head under a spare pillow and chosen to ignore the bickering that was being rained down upon him – again.

This was, what his life had been reduced to for the next two days – and he would never admit it out loud, but it was actually not so bad, not after the last couple of days at least. It had distracted him from the darker thoughts and stopped him from brooding too much. He wagered that this was Clarus’ and the other’s intention, but did not voice any of his thoughts. At some point, he could overhear Nyx complain that Ardyn was not visiting him, but Clarus had told him – loud enough for Titus to hear – that the two hitmen were waiting for them to be released. It did make sense, they could not be associated with each other, it would only make things worse. Besides, Clarus had brought that newbie Petra Fortis along, and he was not aware of their connection to the hitmen – and this was how it was supposed to remain. So, until their release date, Titus had to suffer through endless hours of 'Nyx Ulric's Nonsense-Special' as the man had called it himself. By the end of it, he so desperately needed to get away from this man. Preferably before any untoward accident happened. 

When it came to finally being released from this prison days later, he was not too happy to hear that only Pelna and Nyx were allowed to leave. The doctor had told him, he was supposed to stay a couple more days seeing that all severe injuries were more of an internal nature. Apparently, when he had said, he felt like a roasted boar, it had been very close to the truth. So, he was forced to stay behind; grumpy and sullen, his only company some pain medication and a sticky and incredibly smelly ointment for his back. His bad mood did change immediately though, once the room was utterly quiet. Thus, he did the first best thing he could come up with: enjoy the silence and grab the book Clarus had put on his bedside table for entertainment – of course, the bastard had to pick the cheesiest shit he could find, a romance novel; but beggars could not be choosers, right?! 

It was around twenty-two-hundred hours, a week after he had been put into this bed, when the door to his room opened quietly and Cor stepped in. Evidently, he must have been sneaking around again, seeing how careful he was with closing said door behind him. Titus smiled at that. “You could come during official visiting hours, you know, right?” “I do, but where would be the fun in that?” came the calm response. “Like a child.” Titus huffed amused. Cor made his way over to his bed and Titus pulled his legs up to sit cross-legged, giving the man space to sit down. And, he did, propping one leg onto the bed, he took a seat opposite of the Captain. “Are you feeling better?” “Yeah. I’ve... it wasn’t the worst I had to endure.” “That’s concerning.” Titus shrugged, there was nothing he could say to that. “It is, what it is.” “Yes.” There was a moment of silence that kept on stretching into minutes while both men simply kept gazing at each other, the book in Titus hand had dropped into his lap, long forgotten. There were things neither would say out loud, but their eyes expressed them plenty.

And just like that, both men surged forward, connecting in a needy and desperate kiss, groaning into each other’s mouth as they finally got to taste the other. They bumped noses and clacked teeth, but neither man stopped the sloppy attempt of a kiss; too busy flicking tongue against tongue, mapping out the other's wet hot cavern while moving back and forth, entangling with the other’s thick muscle as much as possible. Eventually, Cor caved and allowed Titus to push their tongues back into his own mouth, eliciting a low purr from the man. Suddenly, Titus tensed and pulled away. He had a deep scowl cover his features and his eyes flicked to the wall. “Fuck... I’m sorry.” he muttered under his breath, and Cor raised an eyebrow. “What is it?” The taller man rubbed his hands over his face, inhaling deeply – how was he going to tell the other about what he had done? It was more than degrading. This thought had not occurred to him once so far, but now... he closed his eyes and let his head drop forward, propping his elbows onto his knees – his hands closing into fists just to open a second later again. Fucking hell, he suddenly felt so dirty... 

“I...” Titus tried to find the right words, but they failed him – how was he supposed to tell Cor that just before they had gotten them out, he had Kuznetsov’s cock shoved down his throat? Well... no sense of crying over spilt milk. He might as well just get it over with; he was no coward. And it was not like he had liked it or anything. He wagered the other man had only done it out of spite at that point. He took a deep breath and turned his head to look at the hitman, who regarded him patiently. “Listen, before you guys showed up, I did some unsavoury things, okay? When you found me on the floor in that room, it was because that asshole had knocked my head into the desk. And the only reason he was able to do that was because I had his damn cock sticking down my throat. Couldn’t do much about the position I was in.”

Titus closed his eyes, not willing to look at the other man, feeling a blush creep up his ears at the humiliating memory. And Cor being silent did not make things better. Especially, when the seconds ticked by and turned into a full minute. Eventually, Cor breathed out a quiet “why” and tugged at the Captain’s chin, so he would look at him again. And he obliged, too easily. “Payment? So, he released Ulric and Khara. Still, that’s no excuse.” The hitman’s frown deepened and he tilted his head to one side, not once breaking eye contact, despite the other’s attempts. It did not take a genius to connect the dots, and Cor’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not the first time something like this happened.” It was not a question. “No. Nevertheless...” “I don’t care about it.” That threw the Captain for a loop. He wanted to say something, but when no sound left his mouth, he simply shut it again, staring at the hitman. “You do what needs to be done to survive. If it means to pleasure your enemy for the safety of those you consider family, then, so be it.”

Hell, how did he get so damn lucky with this man – Titus just blinked at him, keeping his mouth shut on purpose now, knowing full well he would say something he would later regret. Cor’s lips quirked up in a small but reserved smile. “I find it admirable that you do such things for your family. Rest assured, I won’t judge you on your actions or on your past, Titus. If that’s what you’re worried about.” It took the Captain a little longer to compute this statement and have his brain back in working order. But when he did, he grabbed the hitman by his goatee and pulled him closer. Not to kiss, but to simply lean against him, and suddenly, the weight of his past did not feel that heavy anymore. Perhaps the only one who had created so much drama was only himself? 

Unfortunately, though, Cor was not so much known for having tact, so, he blurted out: “There is something else I need clarification on, though.” Not moving, Titus rumbled a quiet “and what’s that?” “The day you left. You left a key on the table. What am I supposed to do with it?” Titus snorted amused and could not help it when it turned into a full-hearted laughter once he looked at the hitman’s face again – confusion written all over it. “You’re impossible.” “Yet, will you explain?” he demanded. “It’s the key to my apartment. If you ever feel like coming over, you’re free to do so. Even if I’m not around.” Cor nodded. “Do you want a key to the safehouse, then?” That earned the hitman a reprimanding look and a light tug at his goatee, but Titus still chuckled. “Idiot! That’s not... damn, you’re too much at times.” He pulled Cor into a short tame kiss. “You’re really making me spell it out for you, huh?” There was another curt nod.

“Alright. I like having you around. And if you feel like just being around something comfortable, then you’re welcome to stay. Seeing that you don’t like the safehouse that much.” “I understand. I like that. Thank you.” Titus hummed before he locked lips with the hitman once more. This time, they were not aiming for a quick relief, the kiss was slow and savouring. Like they were exploring each other’s mouth for the very first time. When they broke apart, Titus spoke up again: “Tell anyone and I’ll deny it all.” Cor just smiled. “You could always pay me to keep quiet. But I’m not cheap!” He had to huff at that. “I’ll pay you, alright. But it’ll have to wait. I’m still on drugs.” “That’s fine. I don’t mind waiting. And yes, you’re very forthcoming with information right now. They should give you more sedatives.” “Shut up, idiot.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually had fun writing this. Enjoy. :)


	56. Take care

They had kept Titus under observation for another couple of days before releasing him, or rather, kicking him out. By Thursday, he had gotten fed up with all the testing and touching the nurses and the doctor did. He had snapped at them to leave it be, arguing that it had not been the first time and he knew what to do himself. However, the hospital stuff had remained stubborn, but, under the veil of a beautifully hidden threat from the Captain to make their lives worse, allowed him to be released sooner rather than later. 

What he had not accounted for, however, was the 25-hour long journey back to Kansas, which included a lot of sitting, with his back against the seat – he conveniently blamed the drugs for this slip-up. Thankfully, the flight attendants had been kind enough to make sure Nyx, Pelna and he had enough space to lay down if needed, but it was still uncomfortable. They endured! They all wanted to get home – this was a little price to pay for that. 

Once the plane had landed, it took them only a few more hours before each agent was dropped at their respective home. Distantly, Titus had wondered when he had started calling his apartment home. But he knew instantly when the door opened from the inside, revealing none other than one Cor Leonis. “I’m impressed, you’re always where you need to be, before people realize that’s where you should be indeed.” “It’s part of what I do.” Titus nodded and walked past the man, straight to the sofa in the living room. He threw his bag next to it and flopped down.

Leaning back slowly, he let his head fall backwards against the backrest, closing his eyes. He could hear the hitman close the door and a moment later, he felt him close by. The sofa dipped down and Cor was next to him. “Go and shower. I’ll make something to eat. You need more rest.” Titus hummed, but made no effort to move. “Titus. Move!” The hitman’s voice brooked no argument and it made the Captain’s hairs stand on end. Surprisingly enough, his body moved almost on its own. Taking off his jacket, he deliberately threw it over Cor’s head. “Bossy, much.” he said with a hint of a smirk and left for the bathroom. 

When he stepped out of the bathroom 15 minutes later, he was all clean and looking his usual self again. Meanwhile, Cor had also apparently held up his end of the bargain as a plate with sandwiches was placed on the small table in front of the sofa. He grabbed one and tore into it, unable to hold back the satisfied groan. This tasted good – so much better than hospital food. Stealing a glance at what was between the two slices of bread, he frowned. He did not even know what half of that stuff was and Cor seemed to know that too, judging by the smug smirk.

“You need to learn to buy proper meat and veg. You can’t keep living off eggs and penne, or those soldier rations in the cupboards, alone.” “What’s wrong with the rations?” “They’re for on-the-way.” Titus still did not understand. “You won’t eat them while I’m around.” At that, the Captain just nodded, the meaning of this conversation still totally going over his head. He quickly devoured the sandwiches before rummaging through the bag, rather, he was looking for the stupid ointment for his back, but apparently it had slipped right to the bottom, so, he might as well just unpack everything now.

Cor had remained leaned against the counter, keeping his watchful gaze on him. So far, he had not seen his back, but now, that Titus was clean and running around in slacks only, the dark violet-blue lines were out in the open. The black and blue of his other bruises had already started to fade into a dirty yellow-green, so he did not look as gruesome as he had two weeks ago, but it was still enough to tell the hitman what he needed to know. Needless to say, he hated it. 

Of course, Titus found the stupid bottle only when he was almost done and he glared at it angrily. “Would you give me a hand with my back?” he asked Cor, looking towards his right. The hitman wordlessly pushed himself off the counter and walked over to take the bottle. He eyed the label suspiciously and as he opened the cap to smell it, he grimaced. “Smells like roadkill.” “Local ointment to help with the healing, so I’ve been told.” “And keep away any living being.” “That too.” He stood and looked at the smaller man, waiting for his answer. When Cor did not provide one, he cocked a brow and only then, did the hitman realize the other was still waiting for a response. “Lay down. I’ll be right there.” he said and headed for the bathroom.

Titus did as he was told and walked over into the bedroom, just to lay down face-first. At once, he picked up on the scent. His bed did not just smell like him, there was another strong scent there: Cor’s. He smiled at that. Yeah, this was nice. 

Cor joined him several minutes later. By the time he did, Titus had already started dozing off. He jerked slightly to warm fingers carefully touching his arm. Cracking his eyes open, he saw the hitman carry a rolled-up towel. “Tell me when it’s too much.” he said calmly and the Captain nodded lazily, closing his eyes again. There was some shuffling of clothes and a long moment later, he could feel something warm and damp roll over his back; it must have been that towel, but why was it damp? And damn, if that did not feel nice.

His muscles seemed to agree with that notion as they started to relax – silencing his brain. Titus rumbled lowly in his throat. “Good?” Another low but very appreciative rumble could be heard. “Your muscles are still on edge because of the additional electric stimulation. You need to actively relax them: pouring hot water onto a towel and draping them over the tense muscle supposedly helps with it.” “And how do you know that?” “Google.” Titus chuckled. He could feel Cor’s fingers carefully press into some very sore spots and he felt his body go lax. When a pair of soft lips ghosted over his skin, Titus let out a pleased growl. “Did Google tell you to do that as well?” “No.” Cor replied and placed a light kiss onto one of the nasty red welts right between his shoulder blades. Almost instantly, the taller man shuddered. 

To say, Cor was taking very good care of his back was still an understatement. The man had crawled over him to make sure he had full access to every part of his back. Then, he was lavishing every single long welt with the same attention: the hot damp towel soothing the pain, the light press of fingers to work out any tight knots around the damaged area and the feeling of lips and tongue to keep the muscle underneath his skin relaxed. The Captain could do little when his body started to respond and he hummed lowly every time he could feel the man’s lips on him. “You like it?” “Very.” “We’re done now!”

Unceremoniously, Cor uncapped the bottle of ointment and applied ample of the goo-like cream onto each wound. “Too bad.” Titus muttered displeased – the cream felt cold on his skin and it was nice. He could hear the hitman chuckle lightly. Deft fingers worked the smelly ointment into his skin and then, the warm towel was draped over his back. “Turn around.” Cor said quietly, but Titus refused to move – despite the unpleasantly confined hard-on he was sporting, the rest of him felt incredibly relaxed. Even if he wanted to, he was not sure his muscles would obey him right now. Hence, he just rumbled lowly in his throat and remained still.

Next time Cor spoke, his mouth was by his ear. His voice raspy; too raspy. “Turn. Around.” he ordered, letting his lips brush against the helix of Titus’ ear, causing the man to shudder again. The dots connected slowly but steadily. The Captain pulled his arms to his sides and turned slowly around while Cor made sure the towel did not dislodge itself from its position. He lazily opened his eyes and was quite surprised to see the hitman had relieved himself off everything but his boxers already. What a sneaky little shit Cor could be, if he truly wanted. And if that was not enough, Cor sat himself down on his erection, making him inhale sharply. “Bastard.” Cor shrugged, his expression one of pure innocence, but those blue eyes held a gleam that was anything but. 

The hitman moved his hips slowly but it was enough to have Titus hum in pleasure. Without much conscious effort, his hands moved to those strong thighs and squeezed the flesh. Cor’s hands moved and covered his own. “Don’t. Move.” he ordered, before he let his fingers trail up the other’s arms to his shoulders, along the protruding clavicles and then down again, over his chest, ribs and abdominals where they came to a halt, all the while keeping up the slow rocking he had set, watching the other man intently. And Titus was watching him in return, curious what the hitman was going to do next. 

Unfortunately, nothing happened next and it drove Titus slowly but steadily insane. Cor maintained that slow thrusting of his hips, did not say or do anything else. He just kept watching him and the Captain was certain the hitman could see how his patience was crumbling, his control slipping. Titus squeezed the man’s thighs with more force, growling, “Cor.” The little pleasure he gained from the man’s movements was not enough. He was not used to this: to slow, to gentle. “Cor!” His voice was nothing more than a snarl, evidence of him reaching the end of his patience – after the events of the past weeks, it was not the best anyway.

The hitman froze and a second later, removed himself from the other man completely. He dropped his boxers and stared down at the Captain. “Don’t move. Or your wounds will open.” Cor said and took his position in the other’s lap again, resuming that slow rocking motion. And Titus threw his head back with a loud snarl; exasperated, desperate and needy. “You fuckin’ tease. I hate you!” Cor snorted amused. “You want me to stop?” “I’ll castrate you, if you do.” “Are you certain you want that?” With that, the hitman let his hands roam over his chest and down to his own hard cock. Titus escaped a small whine as he watched Cor stroke himself just as slowly as his hips rolled back and forth. “Fuck...” Titus pressed his fingers into Cor’s thighs and tried to increase the other’s pace, but the hitman held against it.

“Stop this nonsense.” His voice was thick with need – he wanted to feel the man, badly. “Cor. Please. Fuck. Let me feel you!” So what if he was begging, but the man was driving him wild with his slow-motion bullshit – he would never have expected that! Cor continued, however, ignoring the other man’s words: just kept on touching himself, hands working their way across his chest, every so often they would focus their attention on his hard length. 

The Captain snarled and tried to get up, but before he could even lift himself off, Cor’s hand was on his chest. “Don’t.” “Then. Stop. Teasing.” he barked at the hitman. There was a moment where nothing happened, then, Cor surged forward and pressed his lips against the other’s, forcing his tongue roughly inside Titus’ mouth and the other responded at once. He bit Cor’s tongue, but the man removed himself as quickly as he had attacked him, just to resume that damning slow pace, leaving him wanting. “Bastard. What do you want?” The hitman hummed, amusement laced in his voice as he spoke: “You.” Utterly frustrated, Titus growled again.

“You have me. Under you. Ready and willing. What else?” “Nothing.” Fucking hell, he was going to bust a nut if this continued any longer. He reached for the hitman’s arm and pulled. “Then let me fill that tight hole of yours so you can ride me.” he snarled, eliciting a snort from Cor. The hitman lifted his hips and pulled the Captain’s slacks down, revealing the man’s cock; its head red and leaking heavily, the vein on the underside thick, his whole length twitching as it bounced up against his stomach. “Don’t. Move.” Cor reminded him and all Titus could do was nod. The hitman propped himself up onto his knees and held the taller man’s cock in place as he lowered himself down on it. His breathing hitched as the thick length broke past his rim and forced his insides apart. Titus moaned, “Fuck, Cor.” The hitman sank down slowly until he was fully impaled by the taller man’s cock. “So tight... so fuckin’ tight. So good.” The smaller man grunted, exhaling a shaky breath. Without waiting to get used to the stretch, he started moving slowly and he could feel the Captain's hands move to his ass. 

Titus let out a low groan at Cor’s slow rocking. Right now, he was not sure what felt worse: the torture he had endured weeks back or this. “Please. Be good and move faster, dammit!” He did not even know that his voice could sound this desperate; it was definitely a new level of desire and need – and that pace, it was ridiculous. How could something so agonizingly slow feel so wonderful at the same time? And if that was not enough, it happened suddenly and without warning: Cor jerked his hips forward roughly, setting a fast pace, violently ripping the Captain out of his thoughts. After all that slow build-up, this was even worse. Titus choked on his own spit before he could say anything, pushing his head further back into the pillow, a primal sound escaping his throat as the pleasure spiked.

But then, Cor stilled and returned to the slow roll of his hips. “Dammit, you absolute damned bastard. What are you...” He did not get any further when the hitman increased his movements again. Titus practically howled in pleasure and Cor gasped lowly before he slowed down again. With ragged breath, the Captain let his hands wander to the other’s hips, gripping them as tight as he could – he wanted rough, not slow; needed it. “Cor. Please, please stop this slow shit. Please. Need you, lion. Need you all rough and wild.” Unaware of his own slip of tongue he could feel Cor tense around him, and it was oh-so good. At once, strong hands were on his pectorals, digging nails into the meaty muscles of his chest. Titus groaned painfully as some fingers pressed into bruised skin – this was it. 

However, Cor stilled completely and both men moaned. No, this was not good and it had Titus cry out utterly frustrated. The hitman’s thigh muscles trembled as he forced himself to remain still. His breath was laboured and the blue of his irises almost gone completely, a deep blush covering his cheeks, ears and neck. His hair was stuck to his sweaty skin and a few droplets trailed down his strong chest. He stared down at Titus, who looked just as dishevelled, desperate and close; yet, returned his gaze. The Captain shivered at the possessive growl that emitted from the hitman’s throat. “You’re mine.” he snarled and started moving again, oh-so slowly. “And I’m yours.” he said, after his breath hitched again. “Yes?” “Yes!” Titus replied, not once breaking eye contact.

The hitman moaned long as he increased the pace again. His hips rocked faster and rougher and it was so good. Titus’ hands were back on his ass supporting his movements and pulling him down forcefully every time he lifted himself up. They were so close that words escaped them, all they could do was grunt and groan as they approached the edge that guaranteed pure pleasure. The hitman’s rocking had evolved into a fast-paced and hard thrusting of his hips which both men craved. The frantic pace Cor had set faltered just for a second before he cummed, clenching up around Titus’ cock, pulling him along over the edge, all the while continuing his movements, milking the Captain for all he was worth. He only started to slow as the sensitivity of his body became too much for him to handle. And eventually, Cor slumped against Titus’ heavily heaving chest and closed his eyes. 

As the seconds ticked by, neither man bothered to move. Eventually, Titus wrapped his hands around Cor’s solid frame, one hand wandering automatically up to his hair, carding through the wet strands. “This was... a terrible idea.” Cor stated bluntly, his voice cracking. “No shit, really? What gave you... that impression – how did you even come up with this?” Titus said, barking out a throaty laugh, trying to catch his breath. “I was curious. We never fuck slowly.” “Now, you know why.” Cor hummed. “I wouldn’t mind doing it again, though.” he said, all the while rubbing his thumb playfully over Titus’ right nipple, enjoying the small tremors it brought with it. The Captain snorted at that comment. “Perhaps. A fair piece of advice, though: next time I won’t be laying back and let you have your way.” “Hm, then I will have to make you submit.” “Is that a challenge?” “Yes.” Titus chuckled. “I’ll make you eat those words.” the hitman replied. There was a moment of comfortable silence, before Titus’ back started flaring up; something pushed into it uncomfortably and now, that he was not preoccupied anymore, he noticed it. "Get up, I’m starting to stick to you and something isn’t right.” The hitman’s lips quirked up before he purred and made himself more comfortable in his position. “No.” “I promise... cuddles?” Titus joked, not expecting it to work. “Are you trying to bribe me?” Or perhaps it might. “Is it working?” 

It did work – lucky him. And Titus was even luckier when Cor joined him in the shower. The hitman was kind enough to help him with his back, the towel had moved and unfortunately pulled at one of the loose threads. They showered efficiently and then found themselves changing the sheets. Or rather, Cor had to change them since it had been his idea. It was also Cor who put more of that disgusting ointment onto his wounds and this time around, Titus pulled a shirt on. He was not interested in having the bed smell like roadkill. After some tossing and turning to find the right position, Cor ended up on his back and Titus partially draped against his side as to not aggravate his back further. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do enjoy :)


	57. Quid pro quo?

He had wondered whether the man had caught up on sleep while in the hospital, but as it turned out, he had not: Titus had practically slept through hours without any interruptions. And Cor let him. Meanwhile, he had made himself comfortable on the sofa, working on his small netbook while being connected to the other hitman via his earpiece. The events in Cambodia had shown that they needed to tie up the loose end called Gilgamesh as soon as possible; they could not afford wasting any more time than they already had. Evidently, their mentor was not willing to let things slide and the two would be damned if they let that man get to anyone close to them. If there was one thing all three of them had definitely in common, then, it was their strong sense of protecting what was theirs. And none of them liked to share. 

“I checked the remaining safehouses but none were triggered. My bet is that he might have some which he never told us of.” Cor argued, letting his gaze wander over the map on the screen. “You’re right about that. Frankly, I could not think of anyone who would be able to help with it. It’s not like we have that many connections. You think he just cauterized it?” A moment of silence. “How am I supposed to know? If you forgot already, I wasn’t quite... conscious at that point in time.” Cor rolled his eyes as he could hear Ardyn laugh. “Because of your sloppy tracking abilities?” He flinched as the other hitman practically screamed into his ear. “I know, sorry.” He sighed. “Perhaps, we should approach this from a different angle. Look where we would go the least?” Another pause. “Then do suggest something better! The way I see it, we won’t find him this way.”

Cor brought up another window and typed something in. “Yes. Likely. That’s a possibility. Hm... you think he will? I disagree. He made it very clear what he thought about it last time I saw him.” Another moment of silence. “Not sure I can do that. I’m not that good at it.” When the door to the bedroom opened, the hitman looked up to find a very sleepy looking Titus walk out, carding through his bed-hair. “I’ve got to go. Talk later? Keep that thought. Okay. I will. Play nice.” With that, Cor pressed the small button on his earpiece and took it out, placing it on the small table next to the netbook. “Don’t mind me.” Titus rumbled lowly, his voice still thick with sleep. “I don’t. You look much better.” The Captain stretched on his way to the kitchen. “Feeling better.” He grabbed a glass and filled it with tap water, downing it in one go. Leaning over the counter, he indicated at the netbook. “Working?” “Yes. We’re trying to find Gilgamesh.” “What brought that on?” Cor growled. “Ardyn and I agreed that he crossed a line he should’ve ignored. We don’t appreciate him touching what isn’t... his.” At that, the taller man cocked a brow, one side of his mouth curling up. He was sure he did not imagine the short pause when the hitman had said the last part. He walked over and took a seat next to Cor, propping his arm onto the backrest, leaning his head against his palm, looking at the man in front of him.

The smaller man locked their gazes instantly and turned sideways to lean his back against the armrest, slowly extending his legs over the other’s thighs, trapping the Captain where he was seated. Cor tilted his head and his gaze dropped momentarily. “Last night, you called me ‘lion’.” Had he really let that slip – Titus cleared his throat. “Well... that’s what you are.” Cor snorted. “Am I?” Without realizing it, the Captain had started trailing a hand over the man’s legs, he came to a halt on the man’s knee, but still drew small circles with his thumb. “You’re practically like a giant cat, you even purr. So, yeah.” Cor nodded. “Better than being called a dog, I guess.” Titus hummed. “Are you going to kiss me, or not?” The Captain huffed out an amused “so bossy” before he leaned down to capture the other’s lips with his own. Growling, he flicked his tongue over Cor’s bottom lip who, in turn, tried to catch the other’s tongue between his teeth. The taller man let him and plunged his wet muscle further into the man's mouth. Titus could feel cold fingers cup his jaw and a low rumble bubbled in his throat. He released Cor’s lips and nudged his nose. “You cold again?” “If I say yes, will you warm me up?” “If that’s what you want.” he replied and ghosted his lips over the man’s chin and down his throat to mouth at the bobbing Adam’s apple. “Then, yes.” 

Titus’ hand was instantly between his legs, rubbing him through the thick fabric of his keikogi bottoms while his mouth worked its way down to Cor’s clavicle, lavishing it with hot wet attention that made the hitman purr in appreciation. The smaller man shifted slightly and Titus used that opportunity to make himself more comfortable. He pulled at the waistband of Cor’s pants, trying to open the drawstrings but when he failed, he lifted himself up a little, pulling the other’s shirt out of the way to identify the problem. “What the...” Trying to understand how the man’s pants were tied seemed to be a science on its own; one he did not want to deal with right now. He threw Cor an unamused glare but the man had that innocent look on his face again. “Kata trousers.” he said and shrugged – as if that explained everything, because, it did not. Titus rolled his eyes and tried to fumble open the knots, always under the hitman’s watchful amused gaze. “I swear, if you laugh, I leave you high and dry.” he growled as he pulled the drawstrings out of the last loop, extending his arm fully – the fuck? “Why would you have a 40-inch-long cord?” “To secure the trousers.” “From what?” Titus’ expression caused Cor to chuckle. The poor man looked completely dumbfounded and incredulous at the same time; it was utterly adorable. 

Cor sat himself up and straddled the Captain’s thighs whose attention was still focussed on the long drawstrings, trying to figure out what the inventor of these had taken to come up with such a ridiculous thing. The hitman reached for the other’s hands and brought them to his hips. He prompted Titus to close his fingers around the side-loops and once he did, he pulled at the man’s wrists, the pants coming loose. “Easy.” Titus huffed in disbelief – they almost got cockblocked by some damn trousers. Cor cupped the Captain’s jaw with both hands and leaned in to lick over his lips. When he let off, he purred a low “touch me” and the other jerked once before focussing on the man on his lap again. “You. Are. An absolute. Menace.” Titus growled with little heat in his voice and returned to the task at hand. He moved his fingers under Cor’s shirt, tracing along the solid muscle on his back and sides. Not bothering with the shirt, he bit a nipple, eliciting a small gasp from Cor.

In turn, the hitman pressed himself closer against Titus and pulled at his hair, capturing the man’s lips for another kiss. But Titus pulled back. Surprised, Cor hesitated before following after. Just to have the other pull back again. Snarling, the hitman grabbed a fistful of Titus’ shirt and pulled him forward. Rather than locking lips with the other, though, the Captain just flicked his tongue out to tease Cor’s bottom lip. And he pulled back once more as soon as Cor leaned in for more, earning himself a very angry snarl. Chuckling, he asked, “Something the matter?” “Yes. You!” “I’m not doing anything.” “Precisely!” Cor surged forward again and, of course, Titus escaped him again. A low sound akin to a whine bubbled in the hitman’s throat and his fingers tightened in the dark fabric of the other man’s shirt. “Enough of this! Kiss me, you...” Anything else Cor wanted to say was swallowed by Titus’ mouth as he finally locked lips with the hitman, ravishing the man’s wet cavern with his tongue like there was no tomorrow.

And Cor lost himself in the sensation, not paying attention to the hand that slipped down his back, between their bodies to their slowly hardening cocks. He gasped in surprise as he felt deft fingers begin to stroke him through his pants again. A shudder rippled through his body when the same fingers freed his cock from its confines only to loosely wrap themselves around his girth to stroke him as light as a feather. “Titus!” The Captain hummed. “You seem to be having a problem here. You want me to stop?” “No!” The answer came too fast and Cor knew it – the man had him right where he wanted him. But he would not go down without a fight. Thus, the hitman moved his own free hand down to find and free Titus’ cock just to squeeze hard around the thick length. The Captain rumbled in appreciation before attacking Cor’s mouth again. With his tongue busy, Titus started a hard and fast rhythm which the other mirrored. They both kept at it relentlessly until it also affected their kiss – it became frantic and sloppy until they were forced to break apart; leaning their foreheads against each other, panting heavily.

“Like that, lion?” Cor felt strong fingers swipe up around his leaking cockhead to tease the slit by pressing his finger in every so often while the thumb rubbed over the frenulum. “Yes.” His breath hitched when he felt Titus’ other hand delicately rub his fingers over his abdominal scar. It was enough to make him cum, releasing himself over the Captain’s hand and shirt. “Titus...” Cor pressed out between laboured breaths as the other did not stop stroking. He shivered at the overstimulation and leaned closer, moaning shamelessly into the other man’s ear, all the while pressing his fingernails into the hot flesh of the man’s cock. Titus tensed and cummed and only then, did he slow his ministrations to a stop. He leaned against the hitman and took deep breaths. 

After a moment of silence, Titus asked, “warm enough now” and Cor nodded lazily. “Yes.” The Captain hummed and raised his hand, licking it clean before he did the same with Cor’s. The hitman just watched him with hooded eyes as one finger after another was cleaned by that warm and wet tongue. Carelessly, he grabbed Titus’ hair and pulled him into a kiss, tasting cum on his tongue. When they separated, the tall man just cocked a brow. “It’s very enticing to watch you lick all that cum off.” Cor elaborated shyly. “I only do it because I like your taste.” That gave him an idea. “Next time, I’ll let you fuck my face and you can decide whether to come down my throat or all over me, how does that sound?” Titus whispered against the other’s heated skin, chuckling amused when he saw the hitman shiver so badly, he had to square his shoulders to make it stop. “Thought so.” 

They had cleaned themselves up swiftly after their little quicky before Cor had ushered Titus into the kitchen to make some early dinner. Or rather, the hitman had told him what to do with the vegetables while he focussed on the salmon fillets. Frankly, Titus had not even known he owned all these pans and what-not in his kitchen until now; even accidentally nicked his finger when cutting the peppers. The hitman had just regarded him with a raised eyebrow before he swapped the utility knife with a smaller paring knife. 

An hour later, they were leaning against the counter side by side, eating. Titus was still glowering at his food as if it had committed some sort of heinous crime. “You’re angry.” “No. Just... what’s wrong with the rations? I still don’t get it.” Cor snorted. “Fresh food is more nutritious. It helps keep your body healthy. Seeing that you almost got yourself fried, I’d say, you should allow your body a better treatment. Even if it’s only temporary.” The Captain rumbled deep in his throat. “I never needed to cook. And I don’t need this for myself. It’s a waste of time.” “Yet, you cooked on New Year’s Day.” “That’s... just because.” Titus Drautos was not blushing, not at all, never. The hitman bumped into his shoulder and the Captain bumped back. “You’re surprisingly docile. What is it?” “Analysing me again?” “Perhaps... a little.”

There was a moment of silence while they ate. “I didn’t like the thought of you dying. It was unpleasant.” Cor stated matter-of-factly, finishing his plate and turning around to lean with his back against the counter, elbows propped up. “I thought it was because I owed you a debt. You saved my life after Gilgamesh cut me in half. But now, I’m not sure anymore.” “At least, your debt is repaid now.” “So, it is.” In his periphery, Titus could see Cor tilt his head, evidently still thinking about it – he should kill this conversation before they ventured into the dangerous territory called emotions. “Cor, don’t.” the Captain stated bluntly. “But...” “It’s not the right time. And you’re not ready. Just trust me on this.” The hitman regarded him for a moment before he nodded slowly. “Later, then.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope i'll be able to work on this properly again. I still got a shit ton of points to work off the list of things that were asked to be included into this fic... gaaah.... 
> 
> this is the end of Act II, by the way... hah...
> 
> anyhow, enjoy. :)


	58. Everything is fair in love and war...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Act III: Family

The remainder of the weekend had been awkward. After their little chat, Cor had remained distanced, his responses terse. He had focussed his attention on finding Gilgamesh, or rather, checking off any known locations the man could have used throughout the past months. Turned out, it was not an easy task – the man had literally disappeared off the face of the earth. Titus had left him alone, given him the space he needed – they needed. Meanwhile, the Captain had wrapped himself into the thin blanket, letting his body get the rest he needed, all the while mulling over their last conversation in his own way – he had already made his peace with the fact that the hitman had become such a strong constant in his life that he wanted to keep him for good; he got attached and he knew he should be upset, yet, he did not even mind it one bloody bit.

Despite the distance that was palpable, they still ate together and slept in the same bed. But it was not the same. And neither man took the first step to change their current situation; they did not know how to. 

When Monday rolled around and Titus’ alarm went off, he was not really surprised to find the bed empty – it irked him nevertheless, knowing that he had made the hitman leave. He was surprised about the sandwiches in the fridge, though. His movements automatic, he pulled out another work-suit, got himself ready and left his apartment. 

The receptionist stared at him as if he had just risen from the dead, disbelief written all over his face, and he was not the only one. None of the agents had expected their Captain to come in literally four days after they had arrived back in the USA. However, none of them knew what had happened over the weekend – and work was the best distraction Titus could think of. 

Currently, he was sitting with his superiors in Regis’ office, partially listening to them scolding him about not taking the time off. “You done?” he asked unimpressed, just to receive some unhappy glares from the other two men. “Until we come up with some more, yes.” “Good. Then, listen. Cor and Ardyn are trying to find Gilgamesh. Been doing so for weeks.” Both of his bosses exchanged a quick glance before they nodded in agreement. “Do they have a lead?” Clarus asked. “Not from what I know.” “Well, technically, the Immortal is still on our list and the case is still open. And we have that severed arm. There must be something we can do, right?” Regis thought out loud but the other two men just shrugged. “If his students can’t find him, how can we?” Titus shot back. “Besides, anyone who worked on that case is currently unavailable – out on sick leave... just like you should be.” “Can we do this another time, Regis. I have literally zero patience for this bullshit.” Clarus eyed the Captain suspiciously. “What’s going on, Titus?” “Nothing.” “Doesn’t sound like nothing.” “How about: it’s none of your bloody business!” the taller man snapped back. “Titus!” Regis’ voice was stern. Rubbing the back of his neck, the Captain took a deep breath. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.” “It was. But, if you don’t want to talk about it, we’ll accept that. Just so you know, we’re here if you do change your mind.” “Yeah. Can we get back to the actual topic, now?” 

He felt somewhat foolish for leaving, but he had really needed space; silence, a place where he could lock himself away from the world outside and just think. So, here he was, in the middle of the dark room, the only light coming from the bulb above his head, sitting in seiza. Everything around him was quiet. No sounds, no visual stimuli – simply nothing. It was the perfect setting to sort through his head; thoughts, emotions, objectives. He needed to separate those things and look at each individually to understand it as a whole. It was not like him to let things go that bothered him. What had thrown him off was the fact, that the Captain had said he was not ready – for what? There was something he had evidently missed – it had something to do with repaying his debt, about him not liking the man to die, right? It made his skin crawl in a weird way that he did not know. He did not like it. But whatever it was, he would figure it out.

And then, there was still the question what to do with Gilgamesh – he was angry with the man; for having lied, for having hurt people he liked, he would not let the man do whatever he wanted. Admittedly, he never thought he would have to go against the other man, was still unsure of what to do about him once they found him. A man he saw as a mentor and father. But the same man had made it very clear as to what he thought of him, of them. He should fight for what was his! Even at the cost of betraying the man, right? Cor’s scowl deepened at that; despite all, that thought hurt. He sighed. He felt torn and lost. What a mess he had gotten himself into... 

There was a cold draft that made his hairs raise on his arms. His body tensed – talk about the devil! He opened his eyes, but nothing gave the other man inside the shadows away. “Why?” he simply asked. “Because you need to understand that you are not like them. Never will be.” “I know.” “Yet, you associate with them!” He could hear the other’s anger seep through his words. “It feels nice.” There was a disappointed sigh. “You let yourself be manipulated by emotions. And look at you now. All confused and unsure of what to do. Uncomfortable in your own skin. Following others around and doing their work for them.” Cor would give him that, the man knew him inside out. “You set them up.” he snarled back. “I am proving my point, boy! They are using you and you let them.” “And what’s the difference to what you did?” he snapped back. “I gave you purpose. What did they give you?” He could think of something. “And that man. He has poisoned your mind. You let him get too close, let him touch you!”

There was a pregnant pause before Gilgamesh continued: “You traded this for him. He does not deserve you. He’s a ruined man. So, tell me: why him?” That was exactly the question he tried to find an answer for, but there was that warmth he felt every time he thought about the Captain. “You don’t even know it yourself. Pathetic. This is. Not. What I raised you to be.” “No, you just wanted someone to carry on where you left off. Seeing that Ardyn wouldn’t...” he bit his tongue, wrong word. “Ardyn? Hm. The Adagium was never meant to be what I wanted you to become.” “What was his purpose then?” “To keep you company, of course. You needed someone so you would push past your limits. Healthy competition and a companion to trust.” Cor narrowed his eyes at that – was there something more? “Why are you here?” “I want you to come back. This nonsense has gone on long enough.” “What about them?” “They will live.” “I’m a failure, yet, you want me back. Why?” “Because you have proven your worth. And I see that I was wrong. I want to make amends.” Cor’s frown deepened. “I don’t want to leave them, they’re...” “... they are what?” Gilgamesh interrupted calmly. “They’re important to me.” he finished his sentence, undeterred. “You care. You love. You lust. How sad. Do you even know the difference between the three?”

Something inside his chest constricted uncomfortably, but he did not let himself get distracted by it. He growled darkly, baring his teeth. “You have no right to command me around anymore. I won’t allow it. I’m my own man, now. And you’re not welcome here!” With a fluid motion, he stood. Accepting the challenge, Gilgamesh stepped into the circle of light, invading Cor’s space, but the younger hitman stood strong. “As I said, I came to make amends. I want you to return to where you truly belong: by my side.” Cor’s eyes drifted down to the missing appendage. The sleeve of the coat was missing. Apparently, the man did not bother to hide his weakness. His expression faltered for a second, and Gilgamesh noticed. “You did good. You were strong. You survived.” “I’m angry with you!” “Understandable.” Deep blue met the reddish-brown eyes of his mentor. “Is it? Then, why did you lie to me? Was it all just lies?” “No. I only wanted to keep you away from them. Keep you safe. You are important, even if I may not want to admit it, or have shown it well. You and I against the rest... as it should be.”

Cor’s eyes went wide as his mentor’s words sank in. He inhaled deeply and balled his hands to fists until his knuckles turned white. “I admit my shortcomings. They were what pushed you towards them. And I’m sorry. I know what you need most, why do you refuse to trust me, boy? You always did before, and was I ever wrong?” He could feel a light tremor start in his fists, slowly spreading into his shoulders and chest, increasing his breathing; the words taking hold despite his attempts to ignore them – he refused to back down. “You should leave. Now.” Gilgamesh inclined his head. “Think about it, boy. I give you 48 hours. I trust you to make the right decision.” And with that, the man retreated into the shadows around them and left silently. For as long as possible, Cor tried to keep the tremors under control but failed eventually. He fell to his knees, clutching his head. And he screamed. 

The cry he heard when closing the front door to the safehouse sounded like Verdi’s Triumphal March to his ears. He knew the man better than anyone, he was too honest for his own good and it made him weak. And he knew exactly what buttons to push to break that mind again if necessary. He had trained him well over the past three decades, and he was going to collect his reward one way or another. He would take back what was his – he would not let his efforts go to waste that easily. 

“I could do this again.” Nyx purred and stretched comfortably between the sheets. Ardyn laughed. “I bet you could.” “Shut up, Red.” “Hey, I just agreed with you. And what do you do? Mock me for it. That’s not very nice boyfriend behaviour, if I may say so.” Nyx smirked and stuck out his tongue. “As if. You’re not to complain. You cou...” _Ring my bells, ring my_ _bellssss_ _... ring my bells, ring my_ _bellssss_ _._ “Oh, hello brother-dearest. Funny you should call.” There was a moment of silence in which Nyx could watch the maroon-haired hitman’s brows furrow slowly. Something flashed across the man’s features, but it was gone before he could decipher it. “You know what that means? You willing to go down that route?” There was a moment of silence. “I understand. Yes...”

When the hitman hung up, he regarded his phone for another second before returning it to the nightstand. He turned around and pulled the agent into his arms, hiding his head in the crook of the other’s neck. “You okay, Red?” For a heartbeat, there was nothing, then, he could feel deft fingers tickling his sides, causing him to jiggle. “Mate, stop. That’s not fair! Gaaah...” “Everything is fair in love and war, darling. Has nobody ever told you that?” 

Maybe he had overestimated himself a little. The whole day had been excruciating. Assuming that his day would be quiet because Ulric and his team were out had been a huge mistake. After having sent a quick text message to Cor, informing him about his new phone number and to call him, he had spent all day sorting out a ‘kitchen incident’ in which some agents had almost burned down the first floor’s kitchen area because of a badly handled birthday cake. And of course, he had to walk past said kitchen when the cake blew up – right into his bloody face. Somebody had thought it funny to play a prank on the birthday child and prepped the candles with a little too much gunpowder. That day, he had spent almost 20 minutes in the shower, scrubbing himself off cake and icing... 

Tuesday had been not much better. His two bosses had dragged him into meetings with the JTTF and BAU to arrange some transfers for new agents. Because of the gossip, both unit chiefs wanted to have words with them first, before sending their agents into the lion’s den. And because of his already foul mood, Titus had snapped at the men for their stupid remarks of losing their agents. By the time he was back in his office, he started wondering if the hitman was still angry with him as he had yet to reply. He spent his afternoon torturing his agents in the gym, making sure they adhered to the new training schedule that had been put together. When he stepped out of the shower that night and still had not received a response from Cor, he started worrying. 

The first thing he did when he arrived at the Glaive headquarters on Wednesday, was to ask his two bosses whether they had spoken with Cor the past couple of days. Clarus had told him that he had sent the hitman a message on Monday, but not heard anything from the man at all, and apparently, he was usually swift to reply, unless he was training. When he had asked what it was about, Titus had refused to talk. Regis, being his usual self, had simply advised that the Captain went to see him instead if he thought there was an issue that needed resolving. After all, he was not supposed to be at work, so, nobody could say anything if he left early.

He did leave and drove over to the hitmen’s safehouse. Hence, here he was; knocking, waiting for someone to open the door. And when it happened, he took a step back, his body automatically readying itself for a fight. It was not so much the man’s appearance that gave him shivers in the worst possible way, he looked calm and collected. It was more the man’s eyes he found dangerously concerning. The deep blue had faded into a pale shade of its former self; something colder, almost unkind. And then, he heard that voice: “Why are you here?” Emotionless, just like the very first time they had spoken – it was all wrong. Taking a deep breath, Titus forced himself to relax and mentally steeled himself for what was to come. If he had offended the hitman this much, then he needed to apologize, but his gut feeling told him it could not be just that. “I wanted to see if you’re alright, came to talk. And it seems an apology is in order, seeing that I ruined the weekend.” There was a moment of silence that kept stretching uncomfortably until Cor stepped out of the way and allowed Titus to enter. Wordlessly, the hitman shut the door and went up the stairs to his room, the Captain following suit, all the while letting his gaze roam attentively across everything in his sights. 

Titus could feel the distance between them and it made his skin crawl. Watching the man lean against the wardrobe while he was standing in the middle of the room felt incredibly wrong – his actions could not have offended the hitman this much, could they? “Talk.” Judging by that tone of voice, the answer to his question was a clear ‘yes’. “I see you’re angry. I didn’t mean to be rude when I said you shouldn’t think of it too much.” “Stop analysing me.” the hitman interrupted darkly. “And get. To. The. Point.” At that, Titus narrowed his eyes. “You were leading the conversation down a road that I believe we both aren’t ready to walk. It involves emotions and I’d say we both lack the capacity to talk about them in an appropriate manner. At least I do. And you’re... I don’t even know if you’re...” “... capable of feeling them?” “What? No. That’s not it!!” “You sure? Because that would be the correct assumption.”

Titus just stared at the hitman for a heartbeat. “Repeat that!” Cor folded his arms in front of his chest and the Captain automatically interpreted that small action. “I said: that would be the correct assumption.” “What the fuck... I get it, you’re angry, but stop spewing this bullshit around. We both know you have feelings.” When Titus took a step forward, the hitman mirrored him defiantly – so much for mixed signals. “How can you be sure about what I feel... or not?” he asked with a calm voice. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Titus ran a hand through his hair before locking eyes with the hitman. “What we did a few nights back...” He gestured between the hitman and himself. “... was not just plain fucking. Even I’m not that thick. And it was mutual, alright?” Cor shrugged. Titus’ control snapped. With a primal growl, he grabbed the hitman’s shoulders and pushed him into the solid wood of the wardrobe. “What’s going on, Leonis?” he hissed, voice dangerously low. “Whatever I said on Saturday couldn’t have caused this reaction.”

The hitman snarled and kneed him in the gut, pushing him backwards. Surprised at such a blunt show of aggression, the Captain stumbled and fell onto the bed, hissing in pain as his back flared up. The hitman was on him at once, pressing his forearm onto his throat. When he spoke, it was louder than necessary: “It was mere curiosity at something new. There was never anything else. I was stupid to think there was. You should let it go too, Captain.” Titus exhaled sharply, pushed his feet firmly into the end of the soft mattress and pressed his hips up and to the side. Both men rolled and fell off the bed. Cor had to brace himself as to not have his whole weight drop onto the other man and the other used it to his advantage. The Captain rolled them over once more, grabbed the hitman’s wrists and pinned them over his head. Cor snarled and arched off the floor but he did not try to get out of his position. The next second, Titus was in his face. “You’re going to tell me what’s going on. Now!” he hissed, only seconds away from exploding into the other’s face. Instead of answering, Cor just turned his head to the side, frowning at something, before he returned his gaze to the taller man. 

Something shifted visibly in those blue eyes and the hitman surged upwards, pressing his lips against Titus’ own. And the tall man just simply short-circuited – whatever the fuck was going on, he wanted answers. Now. Growling, he pressed Cor back into the floor and broke the kiss. “You don’t get to throw this shit into my face and then...” The other's mouth was back on his – it was quick, only meant to silence him; and it worked. “Listen to me.” Cor’s voice was barely a whisper over their erratic breathing. “Gilgamesh is downstairs. I will go with him.” “What? No!!” Titus hissed back. “Yes.” “Why? You insane?” “Because that’s the only chance we’ve got to find out where he’s been hiding this whole time.” “No. There must be another way.” “There isn’t. He’s... he’s in my head. And he’ll always be if I don’t do something about it. I ask you to trust me. Like I trust you.”

The Captain growled and stared him down for another moment before nodding sharply. “He wants to continue as before. In return, he will leave this country. Regis and the others will be safe. You will be safe.” “I can take care of myself.” Titus snapped back. “You need to heal first. I’ll make sure to keep in touch. Ardyn will assist. You’ll be able to find me, I promise.” Cor managed to wriggle one hand out of the man’s now loose grip and cupped the Captain’s tight jaw, the thumb caressing the scar on his right cheek. “This is a little price to pay. That’s what you do to keep those you care for safe, right?” “You said he’s in your head. What if he manages to turn you around again?” “I will do what I can to not let it happen. But... I trust you to be there, should I fail. Please... come after me to pick up what’s left. Or take me down.” He breathed in deeply before continuing: “You can’t tell anyone. Ardyn knows, but the others mustn’t. Please. You need to play along, this is the only chance we’ve got!” “I will.” “Thank you.”

This time, the Captain dipped down of his own accord to capture the other man’s lips and Cor let him. He allowed Titus’ tongue to slip into his mouth for one last kiss. While their tongues flicked around and pressed against each other, Cor slowly rolled them over and before Titus knew what was happening, he got knocked out cold. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go... let's jump right into it. Enjoy... :)


	59. Companion

When he woke up, it was to a painful throbbing of his head. “Fuck my life... ow.” He rolled onto his side and tried to get up. The room was dark, so, he felt around to navigate safely to the wardrobe and from there to the door. He flicked on the light, closing his eyes for a moment. Then, he looked around and moved back to the bed, sitting down. He felt dizzy and his head hurt, never mind his back. He fumbled for his phone, surprised to find a message from a blocked caller ID. “Call me when he’s gone? When do these men learn that their numbers don’t show, dammit!” With a sigh, Titus looked around in the room. As far as he could see, nothing was missing, but it was not like the man had much to begin with. He let himself fall backward but winced when his back hit the sheets. Okay, fine, perhaps their little brawl earlier had not been too good for his back. He covered his eyes with his forearm, growling angry. “Cor... you stubborn idiot!” 

He had remained on Cor’s bed until his phone rang. It had taken Ardyn another hour before the hitman had finally reached the end of his patience and called him rather than texting. They had kept the call short and agreed to speak in person when the hitman returned to the safehouse. Titus had to wait for another two hours for that to happen, and by the end of it, he was very tempted to put a bullet into the man’s head, knowing full well the other had done it on purpose. 

“What an inconvenient situation.” Titus glared at the maroon-haired man. “And you couldn’t come up with anything better?” he asked. “We tried. For weeks.” “Weeks?” “Well... I’ve been looking for daddy-oh since he put Cor-dearest into that hospital bed. But Cor only started helping recently. And... with you guys being kidnapped. Well... it just sealed the deal, I guess.” The Captain nodded. “You didn’t know.” It was not a question. “Frankly, I never asked, he can do what he wants. Only found out over the weekend.” he admitted. “He wouldn’t have told you, even if you had asked, he’s stubborn like that. Besides, he enjoyed your company. You gave him space and didn’t ask questions or expected anything of him. He feels ‘normal’ around you. Don’t look at me like that. Of course, we talk.” Wiggling his eyebrows, Ardyn added “about everything” after a short pause and Titus groaned annoyed. “Can we focus again?” he rumbled and pulled his phone out. He still needed to call Regis and Clarus and he truly and honestly did not want to. 

“Why didn’t you just kill him?” “He’s good enough to keep around.” Cor replied drily. “He will come after you.” “He won't catch me.” “Coming after you will ruin him. Interesting approach.” Gilgamesh concluded, nodding. “What about the Adagium?” “I don't want a companion.” At that, the older hitman hummed. “You’ve grown.” “I did what I had to do, after you decided I was worthless.” There was a moment of silence before Gilgamesh responded: “I was angry. And disappointed. You had failed me.” “And yet, you came back for me.” “Because you were right. I might care too. A little. I simply refused to see it.” Cor forced himself to keep his gaze on the small wall in front of him.

He ignored the stewardess who walked past, offering some alcoholic beverages to all first-class passengers. When she was out of earshot, he asked, “You have a target?” “I do. But that is not what you really want to ask, is it, boy?” The man knew him too well. “How did you survive it, where have you been?” Gilgamesh chuckled lightly. “I had some assistance.” Cor gave it a shot. “Your companion?” “You sound surprised.” “You never told me.” “A companion is there as a fail-safe. You only call for him when truly needed. Nobody must know about his existence. You were not ready to know about this back then – now, however, you are.” And a few dots connected. Cor gripped the armrests tightly until his fingers started hurting. “I don't want a companion.” He repeated, voice low, unable to say anything else – things ran so much deeper than Ardyn and he had suspected and he wondered if they, if he, had ever truly known the man he called ‘mentor’. “If that is what you wish, you will need additional training.” “Whatever it takes... sir.” “Good boy.” 

It all blew up into his face. First thing he did on Friday morning was to march into Regis’ office for the meeting he had scheduled the night when Cor had left; Ardyn and he had needed 24 hours to prepare everything, agree on the story and their actions. Straight-faced, he had told both his superiors about what had happened: Gilgamesh had come for Cor and the brown-haired hitman had willingly gone with him as that was the life he chose. That was why he had been searching for him all this time. Straight-faced, he had watched Regis break down and Clarus roar furiously, throwing the coffee mug against the wall.

Straight-faced, he had told both men that Ardyn had decided to stay, feeling betrayed, willing to support the investigation from the shadows and the next time they crossed paths with the Immortal and his mentor, they would take them down – no matter what; there were no third chances. Straight-faced, he was also the one to speak with the Board of Directors on that matter, simply ignoring the chain of command and demanding that the Glaive was given free reign to catch the infamous hitman and his partner once and for all. The Board agreed, they did not even ask their usual stupid questions about budget and solid proof – Ardyn had made sure to leak false information on the ‘Immortal’s arm’ to the press, forcing the Board to take action after the papers were full of the news.

Straight-faced, he had worked through the day, the agents steering clear of him after he had informed them about the upcoming changes to their schedules. Only when he arrived at his apartment, did he let his mask slip. And it was not pretty, but this was how things had to go now. He begged silently, that the hitmen’s plan would work. He did not know what he would do if not – he felt uncharacteristically desperate, not knowing where the feeling came from, trying to push it back into the darkest corners of his mind. He needed a distraction, something to keep himself from thinking – and he knew exactly what... 

They had finally arrived. Cor pulled the thick coat tighter around his body. He could endure the freezing cold, but he did not like it. While marching through the knee-deep snow, he let his gaze wander across the buildings: all long forgotten, ruined, abandoned. The place spoke of unbelievable cruelty, death and pain. That much was clear. When walking past the entrance, there had been a sign: Главное управление лагерей – ГУЛАГ; Gulag, the Soviet's labour camps. He did not understand what they were doing here. While waiting for their connecting flight, Gilgamesh had disappeared for almost an hour, just to return with the itinerary change that had ended with them being here, in the middle of nowhere. All the man had said was, that he needed more training and that he would provide.

Cor had a bad feeling about this. He was not good at deceiving and lying; hell, he had royally screwed up the last time he had tried. Yet, here he was, trying again because Ardyn had been right, their mentor had come for him. Indeed, the maroon-haired hitman was much better at seeing all those fine details he was unable to pick up on. It did not matter now, he needed to make sure to follow through with his objective: find out if this was the place where Gilgamesh had been hiding the whole time and who this secret companion was. A companion he had never heard of before and he doubted Ardyn had either. He needed, no... wanted to make sure this plan worked out. Gilgamesh had to be stopped. If he played his role well, they would succeed. And then, Ardyn and he would be free – truly. 

Cor followed Gilgamesh to the building in the center area of the compound. He was surprised to see his mentor knock and was even more surprised when the door opened. The man let them both enter, looking at him in a condescending way. Cor simply returned the stare with his trademark scowl. “That’s him, then.” the man said unimpressed and Gilgamesh nodded. Cor watched the smaller man step closer, tensing on instinct alone. He saw it before it happened. The man’s body shifted, telegraphing his movements before they occurred. Cor evaded the jab easily, blocked the kick but before he could counter, his arm was pulled back. His mentor barked authoritatively, “Enough.” The man gave both of them a warning glare – without his mask, Gilgamesh looked even more imposing.

Half a year ago, Cor would have winced at the command, just like the other man did, but now, not so much. “Boy, this is the King. He is my companion.” The younger hitman regarded his mentor and then, the other man – the King; a little over the top that name, but whatever. He snarled at the man and bared his teeth. “Companion or not, try again and you’re dead.” Gilgamesh placed a hand on his shoulder. “He will help with your training, boy. Calm yourself.” The King chuckled amused. “He’s got spunk. I like that.” Stepping closer again, the older man looked at him. “I find it hard to believe that you still call him ‘boy’. He’s not a child anymore. On that note, what do you want to be called, now ‘boy’? Seems you go by different names nowadays?” That was a good question – and Cor did not know the correct answer. So, he remained silent, just to be on the safe side. The King huffed. “Suit yourself.” he deadpanned and turned towards Gilgamesh. “Everything is ready. We can start at your earliest convenience.”

“We’ll start tomorrow.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please enjoy. :)


	60. As time flies by

Four months ago, Axis Arra was put six feet under and Cor ‘the Immortal’ Leonis had decided to follow Gilgamesh into the night. Four months ago, the Glaive had been approved to continue their investigation into the hitmen and Drautos had started pushing the agents until every single last one of them lay on the floor of the gym, unable to move even a single finger. In the meanwhile, the Tech Team around Elshett had grown and they kept international oversight on any assassinations that might have carried the signature of their hitman, working together with INTERPOL and other authorities.

She had called the team in once, in March. A bishop had been shot in quite a spectacular fashion in an orthodox church in Kazakhstan: two bullets had been fired in quick succession, they had both gone through the same hole in the beautiful stained-glass window – without shattering it – just for the first to get stuck in the bulletproof glass wall behind which the target was standing just to be lodged out by the second and then, to hit the man’s head. It had all happened so fast, nobody had reacted until it was too late. They had moved out at once. They had found the ornate bullet cartridge as expected and once Ulric’s team was done for the day, Drautos and Izunia had continued searching the perimeter just to find a folded postcard hidden inside a drainpipe.

It was a picture of an old-fashioned grandfather clock, on the other side there were little indents in the thick paper – braille. According to Izunia’s comment, Cor was with two people and he needed time to understand the purpose of the second man. The maroon-haired hitman had been very confused at the message, seeing that his brother had not provided details of their location as expected. But there was nothing they could do about it but trust the man and wait. 

It was almost April and they were not much further than they were at the beginning. And it was driving Drautos crazy – and there was only so much he could do to keep himself distracted; he needed something, anything, preferably soon. With some assistance of Izunia, they were able to put together a solid Victimology for the hitmen’s targets, the downside of that was, however, that there were too many potential targets who fit the bill – it was like looking for a needle in a haystack to find the right one. They had shared the profile with local agencies and INTERPOL but it was questionable how likely it was for any of them to call if they found anything. And that was not the only problem.

“Ulric! Office, now!” the Captain barked loud enough for the agent to hear it outside. The agent came running swiftly. “Whatever it was, I didn’t do it!” The taller man threw the younger man an unimpressed glare, turning the paper in his hand around so he could see. “I thought we went over this whole ‘how to write a report’ thing before?” Ulric stepped closer and squinted his eyes, reading through the first paragraph. He frowned, then said, “Ah yes. I can explain that. This is an actual quote from the witness. That wasn’t me writing shit.” With a deep rumble, Drautos turned the paper around again. He sighed and a moment later put his signature onto the dotted line. When Ulric did not show any signs to leave his office, he said, “You’re dismissed.” “Captain?” “I said: you’re dismissed.” The younger agent raised his arms defensively.

“I just wanted to ask if you wanted to come for drinks tonight? You know, relax a little. Think about other things?” “Not interested.” “But, you’ve been holed up in here for months on end.” At that, the taller man threw Ulric another unimpressed glare. “Or at home or in the gym, mostly the gym. Didn’t even know you could put on more muscle mass than you already had. But that’s not the point. Just one night, Captain. To forget about it all for a little while, you know, move on.” The black-haired man knew he had used the wrong words when he saw the other man put the pen down. “I didn’t mean it that way.” “I’ll forget about this shit once it’s over. Now: get out!” 

Before Drautos could kick the other agent out, his laptop pinged: a new email. When he took a quick glance, he frowned. He clicked on the email and opened it. “Ulric...” “Yes?” “Stop this bullshit!” At that, the younger man tilted his head, confusion written all over his face. “I... didn’t do anything?” Drautos turned the screen around, pointing at the email which had Ulric’s name listed as ‘sender’ and contained a picture of a fountain. Ulric stared at it, eyes going wide. “That... I didn’t send you any email. Especially not about fountains?! Why would I wanna do that? Maybe it was Lib or Pelna pranking you?”

A second stretched into two, then, three before the Captain turned the screen back around, his exhausted brain connecting some dots. He fumbled for his phone. When he locked eyes with the other man again, he silently beckoned him to leave and the man did, despite his very evident confusion and piqued curiosity. He pulled the email up on his phone and forwarded the picture to Izunia. Then, he dialled his number. It rang once before the hitman picked up. “Tell me what I want to hear!” the Captain rumbled. “He does have a quiet interest in architecture.” the man on the other end replied, chuckling amused. 

He was awake before his alarm went off – again. Sleep had eluded him throughout the night, his aching body unable to find rest. Training with Gilgamesh was always like a delicate dance between life and death, but the past few months had been hell, literally and metaphorically. His mentor had made him run and fight until he was unable to stand and then forced him through another training routine just for good measure, wiping the floor with him. From dawn until dusk, every day – just like when he had been younger, only worse. Much worse. He would always be so exhausted that he barely felt his limbs, fingers trembling so badly he would be unable to hold the fork properly.

At least Gilgamesh let him sleep for five hours, he needed that. And then, there were all those comments and remarks that were starting to pull his mental walls down as well; they were sharp and to the point, putting thoughts into his head he should not have – the man knew exactly what to say to him. Still, something was different, it was as if Gilgamesh had let him get closer; it felt like the man was more open to him. It was subtle, but he was certain of it – it was like before, but somehow better, even with the hard training and the pain. Also, he still did not know what to do with the King, what his purpose was aside from pissing him off. The man was making him angry with everything he did and he had difficulties keeping track of both older men’s actions and his own act.

He found it difficult to play along day in, day out – behaving as if he had been truly willing to leave everything behind. He knew he was being watched closely and every wrong word or reaction would betray him. And the icing on the cake was that Gilgamesh made him work, another point he needed to focus on – it was stretching him thin. When his mentor had told him about that bishop, he had had very little time to observe and plan everything. Let alone find the means to leave a message behind. He had managed, but it was a close call and by no means perfect.

At least this time around, the man had given him some heads-up. And he had shamelessly used his precious little spare time to send a message. He should have thought that part through more thoroughly, though. He was no hacker, and having the email sent from Ulric’s account had been far more difficult than he had expected. As tired as he was, he had forgotten to add in any details, just attached the picture and hit ‘send’ – he could have slapped himself for it. He just hoped it was enough. He crawled out of bed, grabbed some clothes and left his room, he needed a shower. He shuddered, even that thought was disgusting right now – he had always loved showers, they relaxed him, but sharing the same space with his mentor and his damn companion was something he simply did not enjoy.

Especially after he had stepped out of the cubicle one day to find the King watching him. Instantly, he had felt the need to kill that creep. He did not like Gilgamesh’s companion. He was weird – and he was used to weird, seeing that he knew Ardyn. The King was also weary of him, did not trust him. He had to be careful around the man. And just to ruin the picture altogether, he had realized that the man was not a good fighter. He would even go as far as to say he was terrible at it and yet, Gilgamesh followed every order the other man gave, despite being in charge. He did not understand their bond. He did not want to. He did not care. And he could not afford thinking about such things right now. He had to pick his battles more carefully to make this work. He divested himself off his clothes and turned the tap – the hot water felt good. Closing his eyes, he focussed on the task ahead: he had a target to kill. 

“Are you sure he’s the target?” Drautos asked calmly. Khara nodded, answering, “He’s the only black sheep in the city who will be showing his face in public. The profile fits as well: power-player, corrupt, is at the verge of being released because of unfounded accusations.” “We can only hope at this point.” “How did you figure out he’d be here?” That was Ulric – ever attentive and curious. “Could ask you the same question about that picture.” “Captain... I swear I didn’t send it.” the man cried out annoyed, throwing a questioning glance at Khara and Ostium, but both men simply shook their heads. Of course, he did not, Drautos knew, but it was satisfying to watch the younger agent squirm and become a coil of tight-woven curiosity because of his inability to explain that email. “Khara, Ostium. I want you to check any potential vantage points our hitman might be able to exploit. Let’s try to make it as difficult as possible for him.” Both agents nodded and returned to their laptops. Mission accomplished, he did not have to answer the question.

Ulric looked at Drautos for a moment, then asked: “What are we gonna do?” “We’ll walk the perimeter. See the car’s route from a regular person’s point of view, check for any last-minute diversions and blockades. And we might as well grab lunch.” 

Of course, there had to be something that would make their life more difficult. There was a large tourist event in Kyiv which was partially blocking the route the cars with their target was taking. It was a bottleneck they had no chance of avoiding and the agents agreed that this hold-up was begging to be exploited. And of course, the vantage points Khara and Ostium had found were all perfectly in line with the main street. A growl had bubbled in Drautos’ throat, but eventually he agreed to split the team up to cover all three points. Unfortunately, they could not rely much on the National Police – the NPU – because they had their hands full with keeping the mob in line. The perfect opportunity for a kill; the hitman had undoubtedly put thought into this. 

Ulric and Drautos were waiting for their food to be packed and ready. “Where’s that parrot gone?” “Red said, he was trying to talk to Leonis on his own. He...” the young agent sighed. “He’s been angry that he left, I think. But he’s not talking. And he’s very fidgety too. The other day he practically jumped for joy and I’ve got no clue why.” Drautos nodded and watched Ulric grab the two bags of food. He grimaced, they needed to make their way through the crowd now – oh joy. Ulric seemed to have the same thought when he said with a mirthful smile, “Let's get rubbed out among these people, shall we.” The Captain could only roll his eyes; why did his best agent have to be such an idiot at times? 

He was observing his surroundings once more, satisfied with how the events were proceeding. Having a festival happen at the same time as he was to shoot someone was like a blessing of the highest regard. The police were busy, everyone was drunk, nobody would pay attention to anything aside from empty beer bottles, or plastic cups and food. He finished his sandwich and binned the paper when his eyes flicked over the crowd again, just to zone in on something particular. Or rather, someone. There was a very tall man staring into the general direction of the crowd and he was definitely not a tourist, judging by the small bulge at his left hip – a gun. He was wearing a black suit and in the process of taking off the jacket, the fluid movements very familiar.

The man must be feeling as if he were in a sauna, considering the temperatures – Cor’s lips quirked up a little at that thought. If he was here, then, the others were here as well. And Ardyn would be around, too. His small smile vanished just as quickly as it came, though. He should not be talking to them, if Gilgamesh found out, he was in real trouble. But the man was not here. The man was unable to operate a rifle with one arm. Without any conscious effort, he took a step forward, then another. He wanted – but wanting was dangerous. Yet, he was exhausted, physically as well as mentally, which was worse. There was also that little voice in his head that sounded much like his mentor, telling him to stay away... still. The other little voice sounded encouraging, he liked that one more. Before he could make any conscious decision on which one to listen to, his hand reached out and pulled at the white fabric of the man’s dress shirt. Distantly, he realized the shirt was quite tight around the man’s shoulders, he must have been bulking up. 

The man tensed at once, but before he could turn, Cor pushed more firmly into his back. “Don’t.” He could feel Titus relax instantly. There was a moment of silence. “How you holding up?” The hitman leaned his forehead against the firm back and inhaled deeply. “It’s hard.” he replied. “What do you need?” Titus’ voice was a deep rumble and Cor felt himself relax more than he had in the last months. He leaned further into the warm body, using his hands to hold onto the man’s weapon’s belt on his back. “You.” he finally managed to press out, quietly. “What else?” That voice did things to him. And he was so exhausted. Without thinking, he blurted out: “He’s got a companion, someone who’s helping him. And I'm tired. It’s so hard to ignore what he says to me. He cares, but it’s lies, right? It’s not true... it’s all empty words. It’s driving me crazy. I don’t know what to do.”

He could hear Titus growl darkly. “Don’t you dare listening to him. Stay focussed, Cor. Don't lose sight of what’s important.” There was a moment of silence in which the Captain took a deep breath. A little more collected, he continued: “Just a little longer. Remember, he doesn’t own you. Where's your base?” “In a Gulag. He’s training me. And his companion is so frustrating. But things are different. I know.” Uncaring about his own rambling, Cor let his hands wander to the sides of Titus’ weapons belt and the man did not hesitate to cover them with his own, conveniently hiding everything under his suit jacket. “Cor.” The Captain tried again to turn around, but the other did not let him. “Cor, don’t let him play you. Remember why you left with him.” he started, forcing his voice to stay calm – he could feel the man’s exhaustion and there was nothing he could do. This place was no good, there had to be another way. He needed a distraction, yes, that should help.

“There’s no way to stop you from killing that fucker?” “No. He has taken something that doesn’t belong to him. He must die.” “Then, we need to stop you.” There was a moment of silence. “You can try.” Cor said quietly, his voice sounding a little lighter though, the distraction working – and it was proof of how exhausted the hitman was, if he did not even notice. “That a challenge?” “Yes.” Cor replied boldly. The Captain forced out a laugh. “Don’t complain when we catch you.” “In your dreams.” Another short laugh erupted from the taller man, but then, he tensed. “Ulric’s coming over. Go. Try and find that idiot Izunia. He’s around somewhere. Talk to him. He’ll be able to help more than I can right now. Please, lion. Stay strong.” He could feel the hitman nod against his back. “Be careful. We’ll come and get you. Once we’re done here, we’ll come after you and take that bastard down. And you’ll come back home, you want that, right?” Another nod, and then the man slipped away into the crowd. Just right before the younger agent was close enough to notice anything. “Captain. Why are you just standing around like that? Thought we were supposed to head back? Uhm, you okay?” Titus just shrugged and ignored the other man’s questions, continuing on his way as if nothing had happened. 

Cor slipped back into a corridor of one of the older houses, taking deep breaths. He leaned against the cold stone wall and closed his eyes, focussing. He felt a little calmer, more relaxed, the prospect of going home was soothing. It was a good feeling. And it may have been what he needed to keep up his resolve. The stupid little voices in his head had subsided for now. He would complete his assignment, get back, and then wait for his brother and the others to show up. They would take Gilgamesh and the King down and all those mind-games would stop. First things first, he needed to find Ardyn. He had little time left before he had to get back to his position. Thus, mind made up, Cor set out to find the maroon-haired hitman. If he managed to find him now, that would be good. If not, he hoped they would run into each other after he completed his mission. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah... I'm not writing out what happens in between months in too much detail. i don't think anyone cares... :D do enjoy, though.


	61. Chase

Cor had not found Ardyn. So, he had to return to his post and spent the next two hours sprawled out on his front, watching the crowd, observing, waiting for the convoy to arrive. When it was time, he watched the cars drive down along the E95. It was not like the police had put effort into their convoy. The cars’ windows were not even tainted,  but, he was still cautious: he was using armour-piercing bullets. He tensed, there was a sound behind him. He spun around and moved quickly to the door, his bones plopping from the sudden movement. The door opened quietly and someone stepped into the room. 

“Don’t mind me.” Cor relaxed when he saw the hitman. “Ardyn.” “The one and only. I knew you’d not go for the most obvious spots!” Cor shrugged. “Of course not, I know what I'm doing. I’m glad you’re here.” Ardyn gave him an assessing once-over. “You look terrible, anyone told you that?” Cor shook his head. “I’m exhausted.” he admitted quietly and walked back to his rifle – laying down and getting back into position. “ What’cha using?” “.50-caliber, armour-piercing for added power.” “Ouch. That’s  gonna make a mess.” The brown-haired hitman locked sights with his target again while the other waited until he heard the shot. “So, how’s life with daddy-dearest going? And that other person?” “It’s hard. Training that is. But he’s somehow different. I feel closer to him now. He listens to me.” Cor replied, dismantling his rifle quickly, but with the utmost care, missing his brother’s frown. “Did you ever hear of companions?” he continued. “No, what’s that?” The maroon-haired hitman pulled out his phone, typing away while listening. “A fail-safe as he liked to call it. Some sub-optimal assassin.” “Damn, that’s how he got away. Sneaky bastard.” “Yes. He’s called ‘the King’. But I still don’t know the full story behind it.” Ardyn shrugged, watching the other man fumble for the ornate bullet cartridge. 

“Never heard of anyone with that name. Can’t be anyone too important. Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re not good at deceiving, so don’t push it.” “I’m trying. Anyway, this King. He’s terrible at... everything.” Cor turned to look at his brother. “Yet, Gilgamesh is following every order that man gives.” At that, Ardyn’s eyes went wide in disbelief. “You’re joking. Tell me you’re joking.” “Not at all. He also said, you were meant to be my companion. And I told him I wasn’t interested.” The two men left the empty room and walked down the stairs. “As if you’d ever listen to what I have to say.” the maroon-haired hitman huffed out, his voice dripping with amusement. “Don’t tell me. On another note...” Both men stepped out into the open and Cor shouldered his bag. They turned onto the main street and walked slowly towards the parking lots.  They could hear the sirens in the background. 

“... we have set camp in a Gulag. A four-days march south from Yakutsk.” Cor threw his leg over his bike and sat down, looking annoyed. “Do you mind putting that phone away for one second?” Without looking up, Ardyn fumbled in his pockets until he found a small lollipop. He unwrapped it and plopped the red ball into his mouth, smiling. “Can’t do, darling.” The brown-haired man just raised an eyebrow. When the other did not react, he pressed out a drawn out “why” and watched with slight irritation as Ardyn took a picture of him on his motorcycle. The maroon-haired hitman hummed with a nod of his head. “You look really tough. Ever thought about modelling?” “Ardyn. Were you listening to anything I’ve just said?” “Of course, I was. But this is important.” “Ardyn!” Cor barked a little louder than necessary. But it had the desired effect. The other man looked at him. With a too-wide smile on his lips that made Cor narrow his eyes – he knew his brother too well to know he was up to no good. Thus, he asked: “What have you done now?” 

Ardyn shrugged. “I sent the picture to your boyfriend. Duh! Seeing that he’s missing you terribly, I figured I’d do him a favour.” The maroon-haired hitman showed him the picture. Now, it was Cor’s turn to stare at the other hitman in disbelief. The gears in his head were turning and the dots connected. He revved the engine of his bike. “Damn you. The picture shows the street address! You bastard did this on purpose!” “Oops!” They both knew, he was not sorry. Pulling his helmet over, he waved at the maroon-haired hitman and turned onto the main street, cursing under his breath. 

He did not manage to get past the crossroad, having to stop at the red light. When he heard a car honk and then drive onto the curb and over the grass, he revved the engine and pulled his bike onto its rear tyre. He forced his way through the traffic and pushed the front wheel back down before looking over his shoulder. Cussing quietly, he sped up. He cut a corner, but the car remained stubbornly on his tail. When he got his hands on Ardyn, the other hitman would pay dearly – he really had no time for this and neither was he awake enough. There was a loud honk to his right and Cor barely managed to hit the brakes before he hit the car. He let the rear of his bike drift with its momentum and then released the clutch to drive on. The car was closer now, he needed to get onto a motorway, or somewhere a car could not follow. 

His eyes fell onto a sign indicating roadworks ahead. He followed down the road and was relieved to see it blocked. There was a small space between the two large boulders and he just barely managed to get through. Cor pulled the clutch and locked up his rear tyre. He slid to a halt, staring through his visor at the car that came to a halt in front of the stones on the opposite site. Cor frowned, he was surprised to see Ostium and Khara in the car – where were the others? Shaking his head, he decided to ignore that question in favour of getting out of here. He breathed out slowly before he started up the engine again, did a 360-spin and then wheelied himself through the crates and equipment. 

He turned the corner and joined in on the traffic as if nothing had happened. Or at least, that was what he had tried – when he was intercepted by another car. The BMW cut him off before he could turn onto a side-road and he snarled. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” He stared at a happily smiling Ardyn Izunia behind the wheel who pointed at something behind him. Cor turned around just to see a police car approaching swiftly. And if he was not mistaken, he could see Ulric and Drautos. He turned back to the maroon-haired hitman and moved his thumb horizontally across his throat, but the hitman just shrugged innocently, still licking at his stupid lollipop. Cor let his bike’s engine rev up loudly before he sped down another side road. He did not bother turning around to know that both cars were following him.  He really needed a motorway, now! 

He was not too surprised to see Ardyn being able to keep up with him, but the other car was an unwanted attachment he needed to lose. He threaded through the cars and finally made it onto another street that led to the motorway. He bypassed a large lorry and heard a horn sound behind him. He sped up again and joined the roundabout too quickly, almost bumping into another car. He exited the busy circle and smiled when he heard some more honking and the squeaking of tyres. Then, the siren started blaring and he could see the cars giving way. Cor felt a light shiver run down his back that made the hairs on his arms stand on end; he realized that he felt thrilled by the prospect of being chased – he was surprised about that, considering that not even five minutes ago he had hated that thought. 

He turned onto a road that led along the river, the police car stubbornly remaining on his tail. He changed lanes again and then changed onto the opposite side, earning himself some angry honks from the oncoming cars. His small smirk widened by a fraction when he saw the police car change as well. And it widened even more when he could hear a panicked scream – that must have been Ulric screaming his lungs out if he could hear him over all that noise. He avoided another couple of cars before he saw something in his periphery. Ardyn’s BMW was back, driving at full speed. He was coming on from the side, forcing another lorry-driver to hit the brakes – the container on the back drifting to the side and getting in Cor’s way. He was forced to slow down and change lanes again, threading between the cars only to find himself caught between both cars – the BMW to his right, the police car to his left. 

Finally, he saw the sign he was looking for, only five more kilometers to the motorway. Cor hit the brakes and let the two cars speed past him before he continued on. Ardyn stopped his car and he was barely able to pull the front tyre of his bike up to not run directly into the other man's rear. Instead, he forced his way up and over it, much to the other’s dismay, judging by the fact that the man flipped him off before being hit by another car. “One left...” he hummed satisfied. 

The police car was back by his side, but it did not matter any longer, he had reached his destination: the motorway. He turned his head to the left and that small smirk was back; not that they could see it through his helmet. Ulric was gripping the seatbelt tightly, eyes wide, screaming, legs propped up against the dashboard and one hand pressed against the window. Drautos looked more annoyed than anything, glaring right at him. He could feel another shiver ripple through him and he could not stop himself from waving at the Captain before he increased the speed the police car was unable to keep up with. All he could hear was the constant blaring of the horn behind him. 

They watched as the bike sped off and  Drautos punched the horn angrily. Ulric yelped in his seat and he threw the younger agent a deadly glare before slowing down the car to a reasonable speed so he could stop on the hard shoulder. “Fuck...” “Help...” Drautos rolled his eyes. “Suck it up, Ulric. It wasn’t that bad.” The man stared back at him, his face completely pale. “Maybe you don’t value your life, but I’d like to live a little longer. Thank you very much!” he spat out in a shrill voice. Before the taller man could say anything else, Ulric turned abruptly, opened the door and threw up. Drautos grimaced, thrumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He stared into the direction the hitman had disappeared into, rumbling deep within his throat. He had to fight the little smile that threatened to break through his angry mask. 

To say the Head of the NPU was angry would have been an understatement. Bad enough, that their convict  Grygoriy Koval, a member of the Reforms for Future party had been killed, but the agents had also caused quite the destruction in their attempt to catch the Immortal. And to top it all off, they had stolen a car for that.  Drautos was sitting in the corner office and listening to the man throw one complaint after another at his head while his team was outside, cleaning up. He had not really been listening to anything the Head of the NPU had been saying, but when he heard ‘superior’ he did perk his ears up and focussed again. “... I’ll submit an official complaint to your department for this, Unit Chief Drautos.” Oho, the use of his actual title, this guy really meant it. “You Americans can't do whatever you want and destroy government property.” The Captain just shrugged. 

“You got pen and paper?” That threw the Head off.  Drautos raised his eyebrows, waiting. Finally, the man gave him what he had asked for and the agent wrote down Regis’ contact details. He pushed the paper back towards the other man. “For your complaint. That’s my boss.” He got up, ignoring the man who just stared at him with an open mouth, gaping like a fish. “I believe we’re done here. I need to get back. Good day.” 

When he stepped out of the office, he saw the other agents finish up packing their equipment and he walked over. Ostium was the first to spot him. “How did it go?” “As  expected .” Ostium huffed, cracking his knuckles. “I can’t believe we let that fucker escape. We were so damn close. Maybe next time we should just shoot him.” “You’re just angry that we didn’t find his vantage point.” Khara added in a calm fashion. “Yeah well... that bastard knows how to play us. If he manages to fuck the Captain over, it’s no surprise that he can set us up.” Part of  Drautos wanted to rip into the younger agent for that comment, but he refrained from doing so – he needed to play along. “It can’t be changed, Ostium. We’ll get him next time.” he said instead, earning a sentimental look from the other man. 

Oh yes, punching him was very tempting. “I knew this guy was trouble. You shouldn’t have trusted him, Captain. In the end he’s just some killer who needs to be put down.” Alright, that was certainly enough badmouthing. Before the Captain could say anything, though, Ulric was already one step ahead. He shoved his friend into the wall and glared at him. “You don’t have any right to say that. You don’t even know him.” “You’re one to talk. You’re banging the guy’s brother. How long ‘til he leaves as well?” Drautos sighed. “Ulric, Ostium. That’s enough. You’re causing a scene. Stop it before I kick both your arses. Now, get that stuff out of here. We’re done. We’ve got two more days before we return, I suggest you get some rest.” And with that, he left. He needed to call Regis. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to have a car chase for so long now... at long last... T__T 
> 
> do enjoy.


	62. The person you're trying to reach is currently unavailable...

Regis had listened to his short update and assured him that he would take care of the complaint that would certainly come his way. Despite being hesitant, he had also asked if Cor had been doing okay – he still worried, even if he should not, but he could not help it. Drautos had told him what he needed to know: that the hitman seemed adventurous enough to drive like a madman and that he had successfully killed his target. He did not tell him about their chat, the exhaustion that had been palpable, or how pale and tired the man looked on the picture Izunia had sent him. But he did tell him that the maroon-haired hitman might have found a lead that they could follow. Regis had sounded undecided when he approved Drautos to take action. Before he hung up, Regis had asked him how he was doing and told him to not resent his little brother’s actions. A sad laugh had escaped the Captain when he heard those words. 

With the given approval of his superior, Drautos had asked Khara to cancel their return flights and rather rent out two SUVs for their trip to Russia. Izunia had assisted with the details, providing input on the route to take – always mindful of the route his brother was taking himself to avoid run-ins. Ulric’s team had been less than impressed about that after their little debacle, but at the same time saw it as another opportunity. Ostium had been angrily flinging about insults and unnecessary comments as to why follow the hitman around the world and the maroon-haired hitman had simply replied with a cold “to put a bullet into his head”. The Captain had remained silent, but he could see Khara's eyes narrow in that way of his that said he disagreed with something. Contemplating, he left the dinner table early, leaving the four men and their bickering behind, ignoring their questioning looks. 

An hour later, Drautos found himself in the gym, trying to relieve the tension in his muscles and work himself stupid until he was tired enough to stop thinking. He managed to push through two hours of solid training before Izunia showed up. “If you continue like that, you’ll have to get a new set of shirts.” he quipped, but his voice did not carry much humour. The Captain placed the bar back into its hold and sat up, rolling his shoulders. “Shouldn’t you be babysitting Ulric?” The hitman shrugged. “My baby got tucked into bed and is sleeping soundly.” Drautos grimaced at that. “That’s just bad, Izunia. Really bad!”

“Doesn’t change the fact that it’s true. You, however... I feel like something is bugging you!” That statement earned Izunia a look that spoke volumes. So, the maroon-haired hitman continued: “I assure you, of the two of us, I’m the more perceptive one. Now, spill.” With a blank expression, Drautos watched Izunia saunter over to the weight bench next to him and sit down, crossing his legs. “You doubt me, but I am sincere.” “Those kids are trained well. They’re starting to notice things.” Izunia nodded. “Oh, that’s it? I noticed. I’ll be careful.” There was a moment of silence before the Captain continued: “I don't like this plan. At all. He’s slipping. We need to get him out of there.”

“I hate to agree with you, but you’re right. Haven’t seen him so worn-out in years. It seems daddy-dearest is putting lots of effort into breaking his walls down. But, the good news is: I've managed to pinpoint the Gulag he has been talking about.” “Good.” The Captain nodded and leaned back down to start bench pressing again. “Cor won't be able to kill him.” he pressed out between huffs, an afterthought. “That’s what we’re here for, aren’t we? Even though he won’t like it.” “No, but someone’s got to do it for him.” 

It had taken him longer than necessary to return to their safehouse – three days in total. After the adrenaline had ebbed off, he had needed to take a break and simply rest. He had driven until he had left the larger cities and come to the country-side. There, hidden away from prying eyes he had slept for far longer than expected. In fact, every time he took a break, he rested longer than necessary – trying to give his brother and the Captain time to catch up. He needed to make sure that they had enough time at hand to identify the Gulag he had been talking about.

Eventually, he did arrive though. And as he saw Gilgamesh’s look demanding an explanation, he had given him one: that he had caught up on sleep. His mentor had regarded him for a moment as if he were to say something, but then, had chosen to remain silent. Instead, the King had made it his business to annoy him, asking questions about his assignment and if he had run into any noteworthy trouble. Cor had thrown him a killer glare, telling him that he was in no position to ask questions. Before he could leave for his room, however, his mentor had grabbed him by the arm and told him how satisfied he was with his work – despite everything, Cor could not help it but feel pride swell inside his chest. Especially when he saw the King throw Gilgamesh a nonplussed look that turned into blatant anger. 

Without another word, Cor left for his room. He divested himself of his clothes, took a shower and shaved quickly, just to hide inside his room afterwards. He pressed his face into the pillow and growled darkly. Now, that he was alone again, he could silently stew in his anger over his own damn stupidity. He was such a sucker for praise it was pathetic and he knew it. He should not feel proud of being praised by his mentor. The man had discarded and lied to him without a second thought; yet, he had come for him and told him that it was okay – that he was proud of him, that he had proven his worth. But it was different. He knew he should ignore it. They were just empty words, but they worked so well on him. Cor hated himself for it, but a small part still felt good – it gave him hope that perhaps the man would stop. 

He turned onto his side and forced himself to take deep breaths. He needed to remind himself of his real objective, fortify his resolve. The others would be here soon, he just had to wait for a few more days. This was Ardyn’s and his chance to be free. That was a damn good incentive to keep going, right? Besides, there were people who truly cared. The thought made him shiver. He should not be thinking about them, or him in particular. In hindsight, his behaviour had been embarrassing – he had sounded so desperate and needy, clinging to Titus like some lost child. But those few minutes had helped his mood so much. The man’s warmth had been soothing, and that possessive growl. It made his hairs stand on end now. Not to forget about that chase, it made his blood boil again as he thought about it. It had been fun, he had never been chased like that before. Perhaps the other would do it again sometime? He frowned, that thought made him feel that familiar feeling of excitement... 

There was a quiet knock on the door before it opened and Cor rolled quickly to sit up. Unfortunately, there was not much bed left to roll onto, so, he fell off. With a loud “fuck” he landed on his ass. “We need to work on your language, boy. You’re swearing too much.” Gilgamesh said calmly, watching him. Cor just glared back at him from behind that pathetic excuse he had to call ‘his bed’. “What do you want, sir?” he asked calmly, trying to force his embarrassment down – and something else as well. “We’re done here. Pack your things, we will be leaving in an hour.”

Now, that was a surprise and the younger hitman could not avoid raising his eyebrows – it was not part of the plan; no, they could not leave, they had to stay. This was wrong. “Why? Where are we going?” he asked. “We're leaving for a better place.” Gilgamesh made to turn, but Cor was not satisfied with his mentor’s answer. He got up and squared his shoulders. “Where. Are. We. Going?” he asked again, voice demanding. Gilgamesh stopped and looked over his shoulder, eyes narrowing marginally. He stared at the younger hitman who returned his stare with the same defiance the older man had been breaking down for months now. “Start packing, then come downstairs and have dinner.” was the only thing he said before leaving the room. 

“You sure this is the place? Doesn't look like anyone’s here.” Ulric thought out loud, peeking through the bush he was hiding behind. The maroon-haired hitman rolled his eyes. “Yes. Now shut up and move.” He urged the agent to move forward to get into position. “Silence!” came the Captain’s deep voice through the coms and both men did as told. “Khara in position.” “Ostium in position.” There was a long pause before they could hear Ulric’s voice again. “Ulric in position.” Not a second later came the Captain’s order: “Lock and load. Keep formation and move.” The men worked their way slowly forwards, checking each building. When the fourth was empty, Drautos spoke up again: “Something’s not right. Khara and Ostium, cover. Izunia, on you.” He could hear the hitman acknowledge his order and the Captain split away from the group.

The last thing he could see was Izunia make hand signs from his position before moving out. The other three agents followed the hitman as he made his way past a few smaller buildings and sheds towards the central building. Izunia and Ulric took point at the front door, while Drautos positioned himself in the back. “Alrighty, gents. Here goes nothing.” And with that, the hitman kicked the front door open. The Captain followed suit through the backdoor. Everyone moved swiftly to secure the rooms. When it became clear that the house was empty as well, they met up in the kitchen. The hitman was already pacing around, thinking out loud: “This is not right. They should be here!” He turned on his heel and went up the stairs, ignoring the four men. 

Izunia checked room after room again, but there was nothing. There was little dust which meant that somebody had definitely been here, that much was clear. He even went so far as to turn around the mattresses of the beds in hope of finding something. But again: nothing. Angrily, he punched the wall, leaning against his forearm, eyes closed. “Red?” “Not now, Nyx. I’m ugly when I get angry.” the hitman hissed back. “That’s why I’m here. To listen.” the agent said softly. “We’re gonna find him. It’ll just take a bit more time.” “Time, we don’t have!!” Izunia spat back. “The longer it takes us to find him, the more he’ll slip.” he continued to snarl. A moment later, the hitman ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath. “Leave me be, Nyx.” And with that, he walked back into a bedroom and slammed the door shut. 

When Ulric returned to the kitchen, he found Ostium and Khara sitting at the table. He joined them with a deep sigh. “This sucks. Big time.” he said after a pause. Ostium huffed and whipped on his chair. “All for nothing. Again! It’s as if this guy is leading us along.” Khara nodded. “Don’t you think it’s a bit strange, though?” Two pairs of eyes landed on him, beckoning him to continue. “How did we all end up here in the first place, think about it?” “Well... he killed that Ukrainian politician.” Ostium provided. “Yes, but usually we’re reactive to whatever stunt this guy pulls. And Ukraine and this... both have been proactive. Don’t you think that’s strange?”

Ulric leaned forward, a contemplative look on his features. “Red’s behaving strangely as well. Said something about ‘him slipping’, not sure what he meant, but I bet he meant his brother. And the Captain is his usual self for someone who’s got shamelessly ghosted.” he said, thinking out loud. “Yeah, but ain’t like the Captain’s an open book or anything. Besides, he let his frustrations out on us. Remember all those extra training rounds we had to do?” Ostium added, folding his arms in front of his chest and Khara nodded. “That’s what I mean guys. This can’t be just coincidence, right? I mean... he’s pushing us and then he makes us go on a hunting trip? C’mon, you’ve got to see some pattern there.”

Ulric shrugged, sounding undecided though: “I dunno, mate. I think your imagination is running wild. If what you’re sayin’ is true, then, that would mean both knew Cor was leaving and that in turn would mean they’ve got a plan. It would also mean the Captain has been lying the whole time, knowing full well what’s going on. That could cost him his job. He wouldn’t be that stupid.” “I agree with Nyx, mate. You’ve been watching too many Hollywood movies.” Khara threw his hand up in defense. “Okay, fine. Whatever guys. Just thinking out loud.” Ulric tilted his head. “Where’s the Captain anyway?” “He’s outside, telling the Boss the ‘good’ news.” 

Cor finished the bottle of water and threw it into the bin. It had been his third bottle by now but the headache had not eased. He sighed. For the past three hours, he had wrecked his brain to figure out a way to get in touch with Ardyn – the ride here had been strained and he had been under constant watch by the King; he had not had one minute of alone-time since they had arrived and his patience was running thin.

Yes, four days ago they had left their last safehouse and relocated to this place. And to make matters worse: in this backwater town, the reception was beyond bad and he did not even want to think about WIFI. The people here seemed to still be living the old-fashioned way, more or less; they even milked cows, goats and skinned rabbits with their own hands – he had even seen wolves in the woods. He sighed again. At this rate, he might as well send a homing-pigeon carrying a damn handwritten note. 

As soon as the lady behind the counter returned with his purchase, he paid and left the shop. He saw a child stare at his bike with awe and the corner of his mouth quirked up a little. The boy turned around and watched with big green eyes as he swung his leg over it. “Mister, you’ve got a strange bicycle.” “It’s a motorcycle, kid. A bicycle for grown-ups, so to speak.” he replied, trying to sound less stern. “When I grow up I wanna have one too. Mamaaaa...” The boy ran over to his mother and she lifted him up to sit him onto her arms. She shot Cor a warning glare before she left again, talking to her son – judging by the tone, she was scolding him for having talked to ‘the stranger’. He sighed again. “Welcome to Neiden.” he muttered to himself and revved the engine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy. :)


	63. ... please try again later.

Two weeks had passed by now and he was sitting with his two superiors in a small restaurant, having lunch, the two men talking animatedly about their kids, making plans for the weekend. Iris had started whining about wanting to go to a fair with Cor, as promised by Clarus months ago and the man had simply told his little girl that her Uncle was not coming. She had been quite sad about that and Clarus had gotten just angrier. Not even Cor got to upset his little girl, brother or not. Nevertheless, both elder men tried to move on and deal with things as they happened. Clarus had made it his point to specifically ignore everything that was related to the hitman. He found the man’s behaviour incomprehensible and Titus was sure that, once the man was back, Clarus would break his nose. And his own would come second, right after, that he was certain of as well.

“Titus... hu-hu!” Titus blinked once and focussed on the here and now again. “Sorry, what?” “I asked which one you think would be better: the street vintage fair or the strawberry fair.” Clarus repeated his question. “Strawberry fair.” he replied without second thought. “Less crowded, better for the whole family.” His superior nodded. “That’s true!” “And we’ll get a good number of strawberries out of it. We could bake a cake! Yes, let’s bake a cake. Or make jam!” Regis added thoughtfully. 

Titus’ phone pinged and he pulled it out of his pocket. He frowned when he saw a message from Ardyn. He replied quickly and returned the phone back to where it had been before, focussing back on the other two men who now were discussing the best way to bake a strawberry cake. Suddenly, his phone started blaring. Titus closed his eyes and took a deep breath before answering with a demanding “what”. There was a moment of silence in which his superiors regarded him curiously. He pointedly ignored them while listening to the hitman. “Fine, Continue. I’ll let you know.”

As he hung up, Regis scooted closer to him. Wiggling his eyebrows, he asked, “So?” “So, nothing.” “Aw, come now Titus. That was work. What’s it about?” “That was private.” the Captain corrected, attempting to kill the conversation, but Regis, the nosy bastard he was, continued on: “You gave up your private life after Cor left. So, what’s this about, Titus? I’m your Boss, you aren’t allowed to lie to me.” Titus bit the inside of his cheek to not laugh – oh, if the other man knew. He sighed. “Izunia is cleaning out Leonis’ stuff from the safehouse and asked if I had anything there that I needed back.” 

The mood changed immediately. Regis nodded in understanding. “Are you sure this is how you want to handle things?” That was Clarus, his voice sounded tense. Titus reminded himself that he needed to play his part. “He doesn’t get to fuck me over like that without an explanation. He made his decision, now it’s time to pay up: he’s being cut out.” “I never thought that he would go back.” Clarus said angrily, but Regis shook his head. “In hindsight, it makes sense, even if I hate to admit it. You see, Cor and I talked, when I was still in hospital. He...” the older man paused, trying to find the right words. “... sounded desperate for Gilgamesh’s recognition. He wanted to make him proud. The man is like a father to him. And, frankly, I think anyone would’ve done a better job than his real father.” “Yeah, well... that isn’t difficult, Reggie!” Clarus huffed unamused.

That made Titus frown – remembering what the hitman had told him about the man being in his head. “Regis, who are Cor’s real parents? You never mentioned them once.” “Because they died early on. Father was a violent drunk and the mother hung herself a few months after her husband’s funeral. That’s why we kept him around, you know. Giving him some semblance of a family. But that’s nothing of importance now. Why are you asking?” “Because that means his need for positive reinforcement is a subconscious trait that carried over even after he lost his memories, genius! You know what that means. It defines his state of mind and overrules any action. No matter his intentions...” Titus pulled his phone out again, connecting the dots and putting them into the correct relation – how had he not thought about this sooner, any of them? “What are you thinking, my friend? Titus?! Hello... hey? Don’t ignore your Boss!” Without a response, the tall Captain left the restaurant. 

Heavily panting, he let himself fall back into the grass. His legs were burning but he felt good. Hill sprints were always a good way to clear his mind. “You’re getting slower... old man.” he pressed out between huffs. Gilgamesh laughed – wait, what? “Cut me some slack, boy. I’m over 70. Let’s talk again when you are my age.” Cor turned his head to look at his mentor, feeling good, yet confused. “Why did we come here?” “You needed rest. I’m giving you time to recuperate.” The younger man frowned slightly. “I’m aware that I pushed you in the past months. It was on purpose. You had asked for it and you obviously needed it. You’re very diligent, knowing that you had to sleep on the road told me you needed rest, thus, I provided.” Gilgamesh placed a hand on Cor’s head and the younger man fought hard not to flinch, not used to such a gesture from his mentor.

“I want you to understand that I need you to be at your best. Our life is not easy. You must remain strong. I want you not just to survive, but to prevail. And to take over my mantle once you’re ready. Like father, like son!” Cor could do little but stare at his mentor in utter disbelief – eyes wide, he remained rigid while Gilgamesh carded through his hair. “Despite all, you have come out on top and you’re back where you rightfully belong. I’m proud of you. Cor.” And that was it – that last word hit like a bullet to the head; Cor could practically feel his last defenses dissolve into ash. A small pathetic sound akin to a whine escaped his throat. He stiffly rolled over onto his side to close the little distance that was between them, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of rough fingers running through his hair. 

He arrived at the safehouse in less than an hour, the maroon-haired hitman already waiting for him and opening the door before he was even out of his car. “I’ve tried ringing him but no response. Seems he’s got his phone switched off.” Drautos nodded at that. “What makes you so certain that Gilgamesh will play that card?” “Don’t play dumb, Izunia. He wants him back at all cost. What does it matter if he plays into that little niche? He’s got nothing to lose. You said it yourself: he needs someone to continue on.” Izunia closed the door behind the Captain and led him towards the kitchen. “Yes, but that would mean he had this all planned out from the very beginning. Nobody is that good!” “Perhaps not. Perhaps he just noticed it sometime along the way. I don’t know. But he’s found that one way into Cor’s head that he can’t close off.” “And what do you suggest we do about that? I’m no psychologist and last I checked, you weren’t either.” 

Drautos sighed. “I don’t know.” He ran his hands over his face. “First, we need to talk to him. You! Talk to him. Suggest a meeting. Get him out of there for a few days. Wherever ‘there’ may be. Give him something that’s not Gilgamesh. He needs a break from the man’s games.” Izunia hummed contemplative. “Shouldn’t you be getting him out?” “I doubt he’d want to see me. Last time he’d already sounded on edge. It might have the opposite effect. And I’m not good at being delicate.” The taller man could not avoid disdain from seeping into his words and Izunia leaned in, eyes narrowed. “You better not give up on my brother, Captain. Do I have to remind you what happened last time he thought you did?” “I won’t. I promised to put him back together or take him down and that’s what I’ll do.” “Hm... I think a little tough love won’t hurt him. Maybe I can convince him to meet up. We always met every now and then; even before all this. For the time being, I need you to look into something for me, though.”

At that, Drautos raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?” “Another hitman called ‘the King’.” The Captain raised a brow. “I know... that title is quite posh if you ask me. Anyway, Cor-darling said that this was the other guy’s name, that companion. I couldn’t find anything interesting or noteworthy, maybe you have more luck.” “And you’re only telling me this now, because?” Izunia shrugged. “Firstly, because nobody cares what Gilgamesh’s companion is called; he’ll die anyway. Secondly, I didn’t deem it important enough to share with you.” The scowl gracing the Captain’s features darkened. “Not impressed.” he stated drily. “Don’t need you to be, big guy.” the hitman retorted cheekily. Drautos sighed again. “Fine. I’ll look into it. Next time, try telling me things like this sooner, you stupid parrot!” Boldly, Izunia stuck his tongue out and flipped the other man off. 

Three days. That long he had been holed up in his room since Gilgamesh had called him ‘son’ and practically put him back into place. Three days since he had caved fully. He should feel ashamed, he really should! But at the same time, he felt more connected to the older man – closer, trusted. Perhaps they could solve this without bloodshed. If the man felt like he did, there might be another way, right? No! He was wrong. They were just words. All lies! He must not lose sight of his true objective, the reason why he was here.

He needed to focus. And staying inside was no good; too much silence, too much thinking. He was so confused, could not even bother to dissect any emotion he felt right now – he had already thrown up several times and still nothing. He sighed. Cor pulled his phone over and pressed the power button for the umpteenth time, knowing he would not have any reception, but it did not keep him from hoping. He sighed again. Of course, no signal. He was about to switch off his phone again, when one tiny bar lit up in the corner of the screen and his phone pinged once.

He quickly opened the notifications app and saw he had a few text messages and missed calls from Clarus, Regis and Ardyn. He frowned – why would the latter call him seven times? Well, he could think of something; he was probably not too happy to have realized that they had left their last base. Ignoring the messages from Regis and Clarus, his finger hovered over the call button under Ardyn’s name, but before he could make up his mind, the one bar was gone again. Cor growled displeased. It was then, that he realized something he had not thought about before: how was he supposed to look Ardyn into the eyes, knowing that he had given in? Or Titus? He was back to square one. All work for nothing, he could not even keep his objective at the forefront of his mind.

Pathetic... he had no right to call the other hitman. Or see his man, for that matter. He did not deserve any of that. He was no good... 

There was a soft knock on the door, but strangely it did not open. “Yes?” At least his voice sounded calm and collected. The door opened and the reason for all his problems came into view. That man had such impeccable timing. It was, as if he could sense his distress. Stupidly, he asked: “Can you read minds?” Gilgamesh laughed amused. “No. However, it would be a great help if I could.” That thought made Cor grimace – no, that ability would be downright devastating. More importantly, did the man just joke?? “Come downstairs. You have been holed up in here long enough. Let’s get to work again.” “You sure? Could have fooled me. With the mind-reading, I mean.” Another small laugh – Gilgamesh never laughed. Or joked, what the fuck!!

“I just know you well enough, son.” And there was that painful sting again, damn that man. He was an adult but got all week when called ‘son’. There was definitely something wrong with him – must be! And there was nothing he could do about it. Pathetic. Cor forced himself to get up and pulled some clothes out of a drawer. His mentor watched silently as he dressed and they both walked into the living room of their spacious little safehouse. The King was already there, waiting. He did not look all-too happy, but Cor did not care. Anything that upset that man was good in his books. He would do anything to make that man more upset. They sat down. “I have a target for you, if you’re interested.” If? Since when was he asked for his opinion? “Who?” came the automatic response. Yes, that was what he was good at – following orders and killing.

“The Director of KNAB.” Cor’s typical frown deepened, trying to recall what KNAB was. And apparently, he took too long, as the King snorted impatiently. “It’s the Latvian Corruption Preventing and Combatting Bureau. Shouldn’t be difficult for the likes of you. Will you continue, now, old man?” Gilgamesh threw the man an unreadable look, but did as told. “You have three targets, the Director himself and his two Deputies. There’s a conference on new corruption laws planned in Riga in a few weeks. I want you to kill them before they can attend.” The younger man tilted his head. “What reason do you have for me to kill them, sir?” Gilgamesh looked at the King, beckoning him to reply in his stead. The man rolled his eyes. “I want them dead. So, be a good little dog and do as told.” And if that voice was not condescending, he did not know what was.

Cor turned his gaze back at his mentor – the fact that he had just been called ‘dog’ going over his head right now. “Sir?” “Just do it, son. It will do you good; give you some focus on the important things in life again.” Cor remained silent for a moment. What was important in his life again? Automatically, he replied: “It will be done, sir.” And with that, he got up and made for his room. At the threshold, he stopped. “I’ll be leaving tonight. Since this place has terrible reception, I’ll move into the city for the time being. How long do I have?” “As long as it takes.” Cor was up the stairs in no time, Gilgamesh’s behaviour driving him crazy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my calves hurt from training.... :D and my arms... but here we go, ... do enjoy. Gen said she got confused reading this. Mission accomplished. It's meant to confuse.


	64. Caught!

A week and a half rolled by before Ardyn received a call from Cor. The man had called in the middle of the night, waking not only him but also Nyx. And despite his attempts to not appear curious, the agent could not help it but try and listen in. It had ended with Ardyn pressing the man’s face into the pillows to listen to what the other hitman had to say. After the call, Nyx and he had a fight, simply because he refused to tell the agent what was going on. Things did not get any better when Ardyn had shown up at the headquarters the next day.

First, Nyx had thought he had come to apologize, but the maroon-haired hitman had simply turned and marched into the Captain’s office instead, not so much as looking at him. That had thrown the agent off and even earned him some surprised looks from Pelna and Libertus. Things got even weirder when both men left with Drautos barking out orders. Of course, Nyx had been stupid enough to decide to follow both men. His two friends had tagged along, trying to convince him to turn back before they got found out. And they did get found out. After having followed the men into the park, they had lost sight of them, just to get caught with their hands in the proverbial cookie jar. To say, their Captain was little impressed, was an understatement. 

Because of their crappy tracking ability, they were now here: in a small café around the corner of their office building. Neither Drautos nor Ardyn looked all too happy – however, the hitman was still hiding his real mood behind a smile. He was also the first to speak up: “I told you not to sniff around, Nyx.” The hitman’s voice was dangerously sweet and the agent rolled his eyes, masking the discomfort he felt, knowing full well he had screwed up; not that he cared. “Yeah... and I told you that I wouldn’t let it go. Didn’t think you’d conspire with the Captain of all people.” They waited until the waitress put their orders on the table and left. “So, what’s going on, Red? And please... tell me the truth this time?” Nyx’s voice sounded hopeful. He could feel Pelna lean in close. “Maybe they have an affair?”

Libertus’ apple juice landed in their Captain’s face, drawing a lot of unwanted attention. Judging by the man’s expression, he had just dug his own grave. Libertus handed Drautos his napkin, hand slightly trembling. Fortunately, Ardyn saved him from instant combustion. “We don’t, Pelna-darling. I can assure you, I’m very happy with Nyx over there, despite his nosy behaviour at times. Besides, the big brute is already taken.” That raised three sets of eyebrows. “Already? When did that happen Captain?” Nyx asked. Drautos rolled his eyes. “What do you think?” he shot back drily. “You see, my brother never really left. Not like you think he did, at least. It was all kind of a big plan to figure out where Gilgamesh was hiding.” Ardyn elaborated, earning himself an angry side-glance from the Captain. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s not my fault they trailed us. If Cor had called at a reasonable hour this wouldn’t have happened.” “So, that call was really from him, then?” “Yes, darling. It was.” Pelna leaned back, a satisfied grin on his face, asking, “So, that was all orchestrated?”

“Yes. And if you have any desire to live, you’ll keep it under wraps. Understood?” Drautos’ voice sounded rough and very displeased. The trio nodded quickly. Pelna shoved Nyx’s shoulder and hummed. “And you thought I was hallucinating.” “Yeah, fine. Cookies for you, Pelna. Still... anyone care to explain why all of this?” The Captain crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You go ahead, parrot. It’s your fault we’re here!” “Fine. If I must.” the hitman huffed a little put-upon. “We’ve been looking for Gilgamesh for weeks, months. But there was no trace. He was the one who set you guys up in Cambodia, remember. I figured, he would come back for my brother and he did. We wanted to use it to our advantage. What we didn’t know was, how he got away without a trace. Turns out, he had some help. Cor and I agreed that he left us messages, so we could follow him. That’s how we knew about the gig in Ukraine and Russia. That email you were so confused about, Nyx, that was him. And last night, he finally called, asking to meet up – some things are unfortunately not going as planned, though. We’re faced with a few... complications.”

The three agents let the information sink in. Libertus asked hesitantly, “But why all this show?” “Because it needed to look like he left us for Gilgamesh. It was for your safety. With that being said: if you bad-mouth my brother again, I’ll cut out your tongue, fry it and shove it down your throat ‘til you choke. Got it?” The smile on the hitman’s face made the threat sound even worse than it already was, creeping the agents out a little and Libertus nodded eagerly. Once the hitman’s word registered, Nyx spoke up: “All these months, you acted as if you hated him? And you didn’t tell anyone? Wow...” He was speechless. Considering the number of times they had tried to get their Captain out of his office and into a bar to hook up, get distracted, do other things. He felt a little bad about it. “As the parrot said before. Tell anyone and you're in trouble.” Drautos repeated. “You know we won’t... but, can we help?” The Captain stared at them with an undecipherable look before sighing deeply. “There might be something. If you keep your traps shut, that is.” “Sure thing, Captain! We’ll be stealthy ninjas about this.” And there was that cheeky smile again. 

A few days later, Drautos and Ardyn found themselves checking into the Metsis Hotel in Valga, Estonia. Ulric’s team had assured them that they would keep things running during the Captain’s absence – if anyone asked, the man was out sick. The lady at the reception threw the duo some questioning looks when she handed over the key to ‘their’ room but remained quiet. Especially when the hitman thought it amusing to slap Drautos’ ass in front of her, smiling like a child in a candy shop. It took the taller man a considerable amount of effort to not downright strangle the man out in the open.

After they had turned the corner to get up the stairs, he did slap the back of his head, though, earning himself just more giggles. Nevertheless, he could not fault the hitman for being happy; it had become obvious early on that he was just giddy, looking forward to see his brother again and masking his own worry at the same time. Problem was, they were late; their connecting flight had been delayed, thus, they had lost three hours. Drautos wondered if Cor was still waiting when Ardyn and he dropped their bags in their room. Before they left for the room they were supposed to meet in, he grabbed Ardyn by his biceps. “Don't go easy on him. If he’s in Cor’s head, don’t hesitate.” The hitman pulled his arm free with too much force. “I’ve got my way and you’ve got yours. Well find out soon what’ll work best.” he simply said and walked off, continuing: “And if worse comes to worst, you’ll fight it out.” 

Drautos was surprised but also relieved to see the door open after the hitman had knocked. What he did not like, however, was the brown-haired man visibly distancing himself from them both. Judging by Ardyn’s reaction, he had also noticed. And he did not waste any time to call the other out on it: “So, what’s the matter, dear? No hugs, really?” he asked a little disappointed and put his hands on his hips. “What’s he doing here?” The maroon-haired hitman raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Uhm... he’s your boyfriend?” Ardyn replied a little confused at the question and the cold voice. Cor graced the maroon-haired hitman with a cold stare before looking out of the window again. “Alright... whatever.” Ardyn whined with a fake sob and flopped onto the chair, propping himself up against the top rail. 

Drautos remained leaned against the closed door, watching the hitman intently. “Did you find out anything about the King?” The man’s voice was calm, distanced, just as much as he was physically. “Well... he’s one of those typical sleezy assassins who think themselves better than they actually are. Your darling-Captain over there actually found something useful...” “Your point, Adagium.” the other interrupted harshly. “Hey, no need to be rude.” One look from Cor made Ardyn roll his eyes. “Fine. The King’s a big fish in Italy and surrounding countries. He takes on contracts from anyone. Has a more or less acceptable kill-record in the Mediterranean area overall, calling it his own turf, but that’s it. He’s nothing like us. Nobody will miss him when he's dead.”

Cor nodded. Ardyn regarded him for a moment before he continued: “What’s buggin’ you darling? What did he do?” “I’ll be going to Riga. I have new targets. It’s the King’s contract.” At that, Ardyn narrowed their eyes. “Cor. We don’t complete other people’s contracts.” “Gilgamesh asked me to.” the other replied matter-of-factly. “Then, tell him you won’t do it! Unless...” The maroon-haired hitman paused, looking at his brother. “... unless there’s something else. Cor, tell me what’s going on!” The man’s voice changed intonation and he got up, taking a few careful steps towards his brother. When he put his hand on his brother’s shoulder, the man visibly flinched. “Look at me, darling.” He refused. “Please?” Cor brushed Ardyn’s hand off but kept his gaze focussed on something only he could see.

“Cor? What’s wrong. You know you can tell me.” “No.” The hitman’s voice was quiet but clear, strained. “He’s done something to you, hasn’t he?” The nod was barely there and the maroon-haired hitman almost missed it. “Oh darling. It’s okay. That’s why we’re here. We’re worried about you. Maybe, it wasn’t the best idea to let you go back after all.” Ardyn’s voice was soothing and Cor let himself be lulled by it. “What did he do?” he repeated quietly, voice sweet. Finally, Cor looked at the maroon-haired man. The man actually looked worried, it was edged onto his features: the frown, the way the man’s lips dipped downwards. It made Cor feel so ashamed and it hurt so much that he had to avert his eyes again. He should not, he could not, tell him... 

“He called you family, didn’t he?” Cor’s head turned so fast the ‘click’ was audible to everyone in the room. Wide-eyed, he stared at the Captain. The man’s eyes were hard, burning with cold fury; in fact, his whole body screamed bloody murder. “Son...” he heard himself breathe. “He threw you a bone and now you’ve gone back like the good little dog you are!” he snarled back angrily. “Oi, you idiot. The fuck...” “... not now, Izunia. I’m done running in circles with this asshole.” Drautos threw the other hitman a quick glare but Ardyn stood strong. “I suggest you think very carefully about your next words, Captain!” the man hissed back.

“Going easy on this bastard won’t work and you know it. He’s as stubborn as they come.” Drautos growled back before he continued: “A little tough love won’t hurt.” There was a moment of silence in which both men just glared at each other before the maroon-haired hitman nodded hesitantly and Cor could feel him move away. Instantly, that burning stare was back on him. “What? No response? Do I need to bark for you to understand me?” the taller man snapped as if they had not just been interrupted.

Yes, Cor knew the other wanted to get a rise out of him, that was abundantly clear, yet, he could not hold back the flash of anger he felt – the shame making it all the worse. The hitman snarled and stood. “I’m no dog.” “Then a coward, for giving in, taking the easy way out – again.” Oh yes, Drautos knew that definitely hit a nerve when the other man squared his shoulders and readied for an attack – but it was necessary to get the hitman back into the right mindset. “Izunia, out. Now.” he barked. Before Ardyn could even open his mouth, Cor added: “Leave. Make sure no one calls the police.” The other hitman huffed annoyed. “Fine. Just don’t kill each other. That’s counter-productive, remember that!” With that, he marched out of the room, slamming the door shut. 

“I told you already not to call me a dog!” “And I told you to stop fuckin’ listening to him! But it seems, we need to have that conversation again!” It was almost comical to watch two grown men snarl at each other over a distance of several feet, the only thing separating them a small bed. “You let that man in, again. Stop doing that. He’s lying. Everything he says is a damn lie.” The hitman hissed loudly at that, saying, “You don’t have the right to say that! He’s...” “... he’s telling you what you want to hear, idiot!” Titus yelled back, interrupting him. “He’s using you like a damn puppet.” “He’s my family!” Cor snarled over Titus’ voice and took a step forward.

“Ardyn is your family. Regis and Clarus are your family! Family cares, they don’t make you do things you don’t want. They don’t abuse or torture. They don’t play mind-games to fuck you up.” Titus took a step forward. “He was there when no one else was. I owe him.” “You owe him nothing. You paid him back when he cut you in half.” Another step from both men. Someone from within the room next door banged against the wall, but they did not care. “Don’t let him win so easily. Fight.” “I won't betray him like that! It’s wrong. There’s got to be another way.” Cor snarled. “He’s not that bad. He allowed me to get closer to him. He’s listening to me. If I get him to see that there’s more. That there’s a chance for something else outside this life, perhaps, he’ll stop and finally accept me as his, his...” Cor cut himself off, too angry to find the right word.

Fortunately, he did not need to. “... equal? You really think he’ll acknowledge you? If you show him the truth?” Cor nodded. “Yes.” Titus took a deep breath, forcing himself to lower his voice, yelling would not get them anywhere. “He won’t ever see you as anything but a tool, Cor. And you know that, stop lying to yourself. Regis told us about your real parents. The only reason you want to do good by him is because you never received positive reinforcement as a child. It’s a sub-conscious trait. He’s feeding into that need of yours now to...” Titus did not get to finish his sentence as Cor had lunged over the bed, slamming into him with full force. He barrelled into the wall behind him, exhaling sharply. He did not manage to block the hitman’s elbow as it came down onto his temple.

“Stop. Analysing. Me.” Cor spat, venom practically dripping off each word. The Captain lost his balance and dropped to one knee. “You don’t know anything! You have no right!” Titus was lucky enough to block the kick to his face, grabbing hold of the hitman’s thighs and pushing forward. With a pained grunt, Cor’s back landed on the bed while his lower body got crushed between the other's large frame and the side of the bed. Said bed scraped loudly over the floor as it gave way under the impact. 

Before Cor could lean up, Titus pulled him down and the hitman hit his head on the floor, hissing in pain. Unyielding, he tried to punch the Captain again, but all he accomplished was to get his wrist pinned above his head. Instead, he moved his legs up around the other’s waist, locked his ankles and squeezed as hard as he could, aiming to break those ribs. With a sharp exhale Titus let go and pushed his elbows into the man’s thighs, all the while trying to stay out of the other’s reach. The Captain pushed harder against the strong leg muscles until they let off. It was just a distraction which earned him a punch to the solar plexus. The second he needed to breathe was enough for Cor to wedge a knee between them. The hitman pushed his hips up and managed to throw the other off.

They rolled around on the floor, exchanging blows, trying to get the other into a lock. Eventually, Titus managed to grab hold of Cor’s wrist again. He punched him in the face, only hard enough to make him dizzy but not breaking bone. The hitman had evidently been training, his movements were much faster than before and he had no small amount of difficulty to catch the hitman’s limbs or block any attacks the other dished out. Cor snarled again when he could not free his arm. With some skillful manoeuvring and probably a ton of luck, Titus managed to catch the man’s second arm. He turned the hitman onto his front, locked his arms behind his back, and pressed him face-first into the cold floor. “Get off me!” “Not unless you stop this shit.” he replied, pulling out his handcuffs and forcing them around Cor’s wrists.

The hitman snarled again, pulling at his restraints. When he felt the Captain’s hand fist his hair and pull his head back, he increased his thrashing. “Cor.” With another angry hiss, the hitman tried to shake the towering body off, but in vain. “Cor. Dammit, stop. I’m trying to help you, idiot.” “I don’t want your help. Never wanted it!” the hitman growled back with barely contained fury. “That’s a lie and we both know it.” Titus pushed a knee into the back of Cor’s thigh to keep him from using his leg – he did not fancy a kick from those strong limbs, nor did he want to get his ribs broken by them. The hitman cried out painfully when the pressure became too much, but Titus did not trust him to ease off. He did, however, realize that this was going nowhere, and he needed to change tactics.

“How long, do you think, will it take before you do everything he tells you to do, without questioning it? How long, before he orders you to go after Regis and Clarus. Again! Or after Ardyn.” “No.” “Yes. That’s what this is all about. Nothing else. It was never about family. You’re nothing but a tool for him to do his work.” “No.” “Tell me you trust him. After everything he’s done. After all those lies.” Titus waited for a moment, but when the hitman did not reply, he repeated the last part, this time commanding: “Tell me!” “He wouldn’t...” Cor’s struggles started to ebb off the tiniest bit at that and Titus counted that as a win. The Captain could feel the other’s leg muscle tremble under his weight, so, he shifted a little, leaning forward, still keeping enough pressure on it, just to make sure. “Cor. Listen to me.” “No.” “Listen!”

Titus pressed himself onto the other’s body, forehead dangerously touching the back of the other’s head – if the hitman decided to headbutt him, he would definitely break his nose. “Cor. You asked me to trust you. But you’re struggling. Don’t be ashamed because you can’t do something on your own. Don’t give in so easily, fight. I know it’s hard. That’s why we’re here to help. Let us help you. Let. Me. Help.” Titus could feel the struggles grow weaker. “Remember: I’m yours and you’re mine.” He swallowed hard. This was definitely not the right time for that stupid emotional rollercoaster ride, but he would do whatever it took to get his man back – he would not let the man go, no matter what.

“Cor. I have nothing to offer you. But I care, okay? And I refuse to let you go back to him just like that.” He tugged at the cuffs. “Even if that means I have to force you to stay. You said to come for you and pick up what’s left. I’m doing just that. Now. Here.” Titus paused again, lifting himself up by an inch to look at Cor. The hitman had turned his head to the side, a scowl still covering his features, but the fight had left him as logic made its way back to the forefront of his mind. “You’re mine, lion. Let Gilgamesh fuck the hell off, right where he came from. He doesn’t own you. Never did. You’re your own man. Don’t believe him. Try to look past his lies.” 

Titus took a leap of faith and nuzzled Cor’s ear – the idea of losing this man was unpleasant, he hated it, he would not accept it. “Do you still want me? Tell me.” His voice was a low rumble and he could feel the hitman shiver underneath him. “Tell me what you want, my lion. I’ll give it to you. I’ll be loyal to you if you just let me.” His voice barely a whisper, Titus breathed the words into the man’s ear. Cor exhaled in short puffs, closing his eyes for a moment. “Why would you want something like me? I’m no good. All I can do is kill.” The taller man hummed lightly “I don’t care. Never did. I won’t judge you on your past. Like you won’t judge me.”

Titus ghosted his lips over the man’s red cheek – a small bruise forming there already. “And you’re not ‘something’. You’re ‘someone’. You’re mine.” “And you’re mine?” “Yeah.” the Captain confirmed, his breath shaky as he continued: “Let me prove to you that I can be loyal.” Cor tried to shift under him and Titus allowed it. The hitman managed to turn onto his back, wiggling a little to accommodate his arms. He looked up at the other man, deep blue meeting pale blue. He wanted – but wanting was dangerous. Yet... 

After a moment of silence, Cor said, “I still want you. And your... loyalty.” Titus sighed. “It's yours, then.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tried drama again... lol... enjoy. :)


End file.
